


The Choices We Made

by ladymdc



Series: Murder Husbands™️ [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atlas CEO Rhys, Biting, Blow Jobs, Borderlands: Borderlands 3, Canon-Typical Violence, Competence Kink, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Handsome Jack is an asshole but he's Trying(TM), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Minor Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Post-Atlas At Last, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, References to Depression, Some Humor, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 78,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/pseuds/ladymdc
Summary: Rhys found Jack had been right. The road to hell was, in fact, paved with good intentions. Only upon arrival did Rhys realize that there was nothing to escape from, and nothing to escape to. That hell was himself.Hell, however, didn’t have to be empty, not when he could bring back the devil himself.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Murder Husbands™️ [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857106
Comments: 380
Kudos: 631





	1. In It Together

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a sucker for a well-developed villain & given his history, I’ve always been happy to argue for Jack. He had his reasons for the things he did, flawed as they were. And okay. Yes. The whole Handsome-AI-meat-suit-army thing, there was no justifying that. 
> 
> Still, I kept the ECHOeye because (to me) it’s apparent Jack cared about Rhys in some capacity he probably didn't fully understand himself. And despite everything, Rhys is smart enough to see Jack’s mental decline for what it was, both pre-death and then. So, I had Rhys said sorry to _him,_ and mean it, as Jack fizzled out of existence.
> 
> Enter BL3 providing me a solid foundation to give Jack his body back (please see the ratched-up mission), & here we are.
> 
> ~~[TCWM playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0QXCp96jKFrruBeCN121XO?si=beuOHsuUSRalQZTZHdEdUQ) ~~
> 
> **update 11.18.20** : I commissioned [Jugum](https://twitter.com/JugumPuppet) to create a couple of pieces for this fic as a way to sort of put a pretty little bow on this project for me. So, here is the *cover art* for this work:  
> 

Rhys wavered over whether he should toss the entire device into an incinerator or perhaps the nearest black hole.

He decided against it. 

The concealed power button had barely finished clicking into place when the devil himself flickered into view. He stumbled toward Rhys and caught himself before he could even flinch away with surprise. Rhys barely registered the look of  _ fear  _ in his eyes. Then his expression rippled. 

Jack took a step back like he’d been burned, which was a relief since their faces had been mere inches apart. His gaze traveled over Rhys in a rapid catalog. Taking in every detail, studying his face and eyes and body. Rhys felt his skin prickle, and a faint shiver traveled up his spine, but it wasn’t from a wash of terror. Just awareness or déjà vu. 

“Jesus, cupcake,” Jack said, glancing around them and frowning. “Is that a dead rat glued to your face?” 

Rhys did not have the energy to be offended by Jack or even annoyed. “It’s my siege mustache.”

Jack chuckled unconvincingly and began to wander around the far side of the desk— glitched out of view. When he came back online a split-second later, there was that look again. That unmistakable panic at facing the nothingness lying on the other side. He continued pacing the room. 

A couple of things immediately became clear to Rhys. One, that Jack was aware of his inability to actually  _ do _ anything other than enter and exit sleep mode, and two, that Jack was incredibly disturbed by this knowledge. His expression was tense, but for the time being, Jack gave no indication that he was planning on asking any of the questions that were sure to set him off.

At least, not yet. 

“What, like a prolonged period of misfortune type siege? Like, ‘oh waah, I’ve been having a siege of making stupid fucking decisions my entire life.’”

“No,” Rhys replied, smiling faintly because, despite all the safeguards in place, this was still one of the more dangerous and stupid things he could have done. “It was the kind of siege you would have enjoyed. You know, death and destruction and all that. There was even an orbital laser. Made me almost miss Helios.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, and he glanced away. “It’s possible you’re somehow unaware, but you look like a dipshit. Shave.”

Typical. 

“I’ve been considering it now that it’s over, but I’ve been told it makes me look distinguished. Thank you very much. And spite is a pretty solid motivator.” 

“Oh. So you’re going to keep it just for me?” Jack came around the other side of the desk, stopping to stand about three feet away. He put his hands on his hips as he appraised Rhys again, stance wide. “If I could, I’d rip it off and carry it around in my pocket as a token of your affection.”

The comment caught Rhys so off guard he burst out laughing.

Jack appeared pleased by the success as he crossed his arms and looked down at the small, silver cube sitting on the polished wood. This unassuming piece of tech was what Jack could thank for being allowed to occupy space and time again in any capacity. Well, technically, he should be thanking  _ Rhys,  _ but that would be a cold day in hell.

Rhys cleared his throat and schooled his expression back into neutrality. Then tilted his head and stared at Jack a moment, considering. 

Keeping the ECHOeye, it hadn’t been something strategic or impersonal. It had been him acknowledging that he had felt something interwoven with the homicidal rage. That there was a person buried beneath all the bravado and lies and power-hungry insanity. Someone Rhys had forged a genuine connection with. Who had warned him where he would end up. 

Someone he honestly never expected to lay eyes on again. 

“You’re less angry than I anticipated.” 

Jack shrugged loosely. “Nah. I’m plenty angry. I’m always angry. But kid, you remember how I begged you not to kill me again, and then you did anyway?”

Rhys nodded slowly. “Temporarily, perhaps.”

“Yeah, well, specifics we disagree upon aside, let’s just say I’m a  _ teensy _ bit more glad to see that pretty face of yours than I am pissed about it. Dirt squirrel notwithstanding. Seriously, it looks like shit.  _ Shave,” _ Jack insisted, this time with a harder edge and a sharp look. That ever-present rage rising a little closer to surface. 

The small hairs on the back of Rhys’ neck stood on end. He could understand why, in light of everything else, it felt significant to Jack. 

Like Angel, Rhys had been willing to kill himself just to be free of him. Jack only knew that an indeterminate amount of time had passed between that and  _ now, _ where he was… essentially Rhys’ prisoner, for lack of a better word. But here he was, obsessing over Rhys’ totally awesome mustache because the rest of it probably felt impossible to even begin trying to come to terms with.

“Alright,” he allowed amicably. Things were going surprisingly okay, and Rhys wasn’t about to poke a skag with a stick just to see what it would do, caged or not. “My mother hated it anyway.”

“Smart woman. What about her?” Jack jerked a thumb at the picture frame on Rhys’ desk. “She like it? What was her name again? Sarah? Tasha?”

His throat dipped as he swallowed, then his mouth curled into a wistful smile. “Sasha disappeared several years ago, but I imagine she would have agreed with you.” 

Jack hummed. “Is she who I have to thank for fixing your awful sense of fashion?”

Rhys shifted uncomfortably. From the topic at hand and the fact Jack was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. Watching his movements intently as Rhys’ hand came up, his metal one, and smoothed down his tie, red with silver filament stripes. An excellent match to his prosthetic, which was entirely on display as one sleeve had been removed from his grey shirt.

“No. That came with time.” 

“How much time?” Jack asked, deceptively casual. 

Rhys went very still. He hadn’t been expecting Jack to ask any questions outright. It would show weakness, make him seem like a lesser mortal, of which he had always been quick to assert the opposite. And that it did both of those things was a goddamn fact. It narrowed Rhys’ perspective a bit more, honed in on the real reason he had wanted to talk to Jack. 

Until recently, Rhys didn’t really consider himself a ‘bad guy.’ Ambitious and morally grey, sure, but he wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t  _ Handsome Jack,  _ and the more Rhys succeeded, the more his confidence grew in having found another way. 

After all, he paid his taxes and donated technological advancements and money to improve Promethean infrastructure. Atlas soldiers were held to high behavioral standards. Jokes about the planet being worse than Pandora tapered off and eventually quit altogether. Rhys appreciated how difficult it was to keep people alive and happy, to maintain the mutualism he had established with Atlas employees and Prometheans alike. 

Even when Katagawa turned the Meridian metropolis into a warzone, Rhys’ assurance did not wane. As with Jack, it had been an ordeal of light versus dark, good versus evil. He was not the one who staged an invasion to forcibly acquire Atlas (and his friendship because, apparently, Rhys was psychotic-executive flypaper). Nor was he the one who allied with a literal army of crazed bandits who didn’t care to differentiate between soldier and civilian.

_ Yes, people are dying,  _ Rhys had told himself,  _ but it is for the cause; a worthy death.  _

_ In the end, good always wins. _

Except the war had dragged on so long The Children of the Vault easily recruited displaced and disgruntled citizens, and now— 

Rhys sighed, his mouth twisting briefly as he glanced over at the cube. Then flinched as Jack lunged at him, trying and failing to grab Rhys’ throat much like he had in the past.

Jack straightened with evident frustration and roared right in his face: “How much  _ fucking  _ time, Rhys?!”

“Six years,” said Rhys evenly. “It’s been over six years since we last spoke.”

He gave a short, barking laugh and stepped back as though Rhys had struck him. “Where are we?” 

“Promethea. My office at Atlas HQ.” 

Jack stared at him for a moment, and then his eyebrows arched upwards. 

“Right,” he said slowly, elongating the word. “I handed Hyperion over to you on a goddamn silver platter, and after you betrayed me and sent me back to that hell, you _ what?  _ You decided everything I ever sacrificed for wasn’t  _ good _ enough for you?” 

Imagining trying to have this conversation while in control of the company Jack had launched to unimaginable heights with a flash of a smile and a sweep of his arm set off a tickling sensation in his chest. It increased in strength when Rhys thought about how it had really been at the cost of his daughter’s life and how irate it would have made Jack to see Rhys benefiting from that. He managed to suppress any hints of amusement, though, because again, skag, stick, no poking.

“It wasn’t that,” Rhys allowed in placation. An alert blinked across his HUD; the elevator to his office had been activated. “I could tell you what happened, give you my reasons for the choices I made, but would any of it even matter to you?”

Jack said nothing. 

Rhys nodded to himself and looked down, studied the polish of his shoes. “I never lied to you. You spent enough time in my subsystems, merged with my consciousness even, so it goes without saying that I know you know that.” He looked up at Jack with a faint smile. “You saw what makes me tick, and yet, I’m the one that betrayed you.”

His freezing, mocking intensity instantly surfaced. “Oh, I’m sorry, princess, but we were in it together, and then you tried to  _ leave me—” _

“I would have stayed,” Rhys told him, sincere as could be. 

The interruption seemed to give Jack pause, and so he continued. 

“If you hadn’t attempted what you did, I would have stayed because I knew you weren’t just an AI. I mean, sure you were self-aware, and a lot of AIs are, but you had memories.  _ Knew things _ about Jack that you couldn’t have gotten from Nakayama or I. So, I would have stayed,” Rhys reiterated. “I would have helped you find a way to come back, but you— You stumbled upon evidence of all those repressed memories about your daughter and—”

The sudden look of rage on Jack’s face would have been terrifying if he wasn’t a hologram. He immediately launched into a tirade, which Rhys judiciously ignored as Zer0  _ poofed _ into the room. 

“Talking to yourself, / A favorite pastime sure. / Nope, not weird at all.”

Rhys snorted. “It helps me think. Plus, it’s one of my many charming quirks if I may say so myself.” 

In response, the assassin flashed a cheeky **< 3**, all while Jack continued on yelling in the background. 

Rhys didn’t want to know what anyone would do if they found out he had kept Jack’s consciousness safe and sound this entire time. But given the advancements Atlas had contributed to tech and cybernetics over the years, it was a secret easily kept. Even if the device somehow left Rhys’ possession, no one would ever be able to communicate with Jack. Not without Rhys’ specific neural implants and programming.

“So, what’s up?” he asked.

“I am on a quest / To make sure you are not late. / So, don’t be late.” 

His ECHOeye helpfully informed him that it was only 09:17. “I’m far from being close to late,” he pointed out, stepping  _ through _ a clearly annoyed and gesticulating Jack to get to his desk. “I do have access to my entire schedule at all times.” Rhys tapped at his neural port for emphasis.

“Weak excuse unveiled. / I cannot help but worry. /” Zer0 paused to flash a **!** as Rhys scooped up the picture frame from his desk and dropped it into the wastebasket without looking at it. “Stop searching for her?”

“Yeah. You were right. No one vanishes from sight who wants to be found.”

Zer0’s simple **:(** emote would have sufficed, but then he added: “It is not your fault. / Nor is what happened to her. / She’d be proud, Rhys.”

His throat tightened. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

After allowing a **...** Zer0 turned on his heel and departed. 

Rhys sighed. Then he grabbed his black suit jacket off the back of his office chair and shouldered it before returning his attention to Jack; waited patiently for him to get it all out. Which eventually occurred with one final “—the  _ fuck, _ Rhys?!”

“You know, I used to believe we were opposites,” he said conversationally, reaching into his inner breast pocket to withdraw a thin metal case. Rhys opened it and set it on the desktop. Inside rested nine square cylinders, and Jack eyed him warily as he lifted the device housing his consciousness. Apparently, content to maintain silence with his existence in Rhys’ hands yet again. Manipulating Jack this way, admittedly, it made Rhys feel even shittier about himself.

“When you killed people, you did it because you wanted to. It didn’t matter why or who it affected beyond you. Me, well, I always had my reasons. On Pandora, it had been self-defense, or they were just bandits. All those people that died when Helios went down, it was worth it to stop you. And everyone out there.” Rhys gestured over at the window. “That was Maliwan’s and the COV’s doing, not mine. But now, I suppose, in some regards, I can acknowledge we’re basically the same.”

Jack looked taken aback, eyebrows furrowed and head slightly jerked back. Perhaps partially in response to the unspoken and not completely empty threat behind that confession. 

“These are data cores since I don’t trust you to have free access to the ECHOnet,” Rhys supplied, deftly plucking three from the case. As the square cylinders passed seamlessly through the wall and into the cube, he explained their contents. “One is all the salvageable data I pulled from Helios, including your personal servers. Next, is the current state of things surrounding all eight mega-corporations, the current war, and how we got here. And lastly, how history currently views everything, public opinions, etcetera. This last one will download regular updates as things develop.”

Rhys placed the device back onto the desktop then leaned down to grab his absorption shield and cloaking device from the drawer he had unlocked with his wristband. “It’ll give you something to do while I’m gone,” he said, efficiency equipping everything, then flicking the case shut to tuck it away. “My mother’s funeral is in just over an hour, and I like to think that when you got your daughter killed, you still had enough decency left in you to attend to her funeral too.”

And with that, Rhys left, stomach sinking at the profound silence left in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this started out a little darker than I had originally planned 😅


	2. Coping Mechanisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the archive warning to 'graphic depictions of violence' to err on the side of caution since below, I recap Rhys tearing his cybernetics out. Which I'm sure would have been an absolute nightmare. Also, sure, the arm situation probably wasn’t fun either, but in my honest opinion, that part would have been the least of Rhys’ problems at the time.

That night, at precisely 20:52, Rhys returned.

Jack stood behind the desk, arms folded, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window. He didn’t turn as Rhys climbed the dais steps, just continued staring out over Rhys’ domain. 

Rhys set the bag down then shrugged out of his jacket; being mindful of the contents of his inner breast pocket, he laid it gently onto the desk. Instinctively, Rhys joined Jack at the window, maintaining a conscientious distance. Taking in the breathtaking view of darkness and stars, the bright horizon of Meridian far below them. From up here, he could sense the infinite vastness of the universe. From up here, it looked like any other day, and that helped. 

It always did.

The minutes ticked by as they stood there. Jack just staring out the window quietly, and Rhys enjoying the welcome, albeit unexpected, companionable silence. Several updates scrolled by on his HUD, but nothing pressing. Just the usual end of day information he could let run in the background, like operations summaries and stock market predictions based on that and his public appearances— all favorable. A message from Lorelei entitled ‘Katagawa’s Dead Balls,’ which… could  _ literally _ be about his balls, so Rhys left it alone for the time being. And as he dismissed the summary of his schedule for the following day, Rhys caught movement from the corner of his eye.

Jack had swiveled his face away and was drumming his fingers on his bicep. Then he seemed to come to a decision and turned to face Rhys; he mirrored the movement, angling his body slightly toward the device. 

Rhys had, in fact, shaved as he said he would, and something in Jack’s eyes flickered when he noted it. He stared intently at Rhys for several seconds as though he were rememorizing him. 

Or perhaps trying to understand this new version of him.

“Lookin’ a little rumpled there, kiddo,” Jack said, eyes quickly flicking down to Rhys’ hands, his feet, then back up. 

Rhys shrugged, one-shouldered, and loosened his tie. “The whole unfailing, quintessential CEO persona actually felt a little exacting for once.”

Jack hummed sympathetically. “We can’t all be perfect.” The implication being, obviously, that Jack was. 

“Never change, Jack,” Rhys said dryly.

“Never crossed my mind, sweetheart,” he replied, then winked. 

Rhys did not bother suppressing the involuntary smile tugging at his mouth. Why Jack was being civil didn’t matter. It was not kindness, he knew that, and frankly, Rhys didn’t give a damn that it wasn’t. It just felt good to have a moment’s light relief.

After what had happened between them, trusting no longer came easily to Rhys, but he never intended to trust Jack again. He was a highly accomplished manipulator, and Rhys saw Jack’s various operating modes for what they were. Joking, threatening, engaging, flattering— all insurances that things went the way he wanted. And when they didn’t… well, that was when the mindless violence started. 

But everyone had their preferred coping mechanisms.

Patrick, Rhys’ straight-laced and perfectly capable personal assistant, habitually found his way to the Cistern of Slaughter. 

Zer0 played Bunkers & Badasses. 

Lorelei let out impossibly long strings of profanity that would impress even Jack.

And Rhys… Rhys didn’t test out the latest designer drugs making their way around the Neon Arterial, didn’t start finger-gun fights in the food court, didn’t have casual sex. He just worked harder and longer. There was always something to do. Some problem to correct, a way to make things more efficient, an idea to chase, budgets to review. 

He slept when he was too exhausted to question whether it came too easily or not. By the time he was done talking with Jack, odds were tonight would be one of those nights.

“You are the worst,” Rhys said, shaking his head. 

Jack grinned. “I think the word you’re looking for there, pumpkin, is ‘best.’ Here, I’ll use it in a sentence to help jog your memory because I know it’s in there. ‘Handsome Jack, you’re so smart and stupidly attractive that I couldn’t live another second of my life without you in it. You are  _ the best.’” _

Rhys chuckled, thought about the jagged piece of glass sinking into his temple. The agony that shredded through every nerve as he unthreaded his cybernetics and tugged them out wire by wire, then tearing out his eye. His throat being ripped apart from the effort of not screaming. The taste of blood filling his mouth, feeling it stream down his face.

Pain. Nothing but white-hot pain.

Until, finally, it had stopped.

Honestly, he did not understand why Jack feared the nothingness. To Rhys, it had been bliss. 

“You know, I almost didn’t,” Rhys said in a dead voice. His eyes locking in on a pinprick of light millions of years away as he thought about the peace he had felt. Then, when he had regained consciousness, how the pain had been so much worse than what preceded it. 

It had been gradual yet insidious. The kind that sank into the recesses of the mind and lingered. 

The phantom pains in his artificial eye… Rhys suspected he would have those until the day he found his way to that void beyond. 

“Didn’t what?” 

“Live another second of my life without you in it, that is.” 

Jack scoffed. “I believe it, you friggin’ idiot. I wouldn’t have actually killed us like that.” 

“I know,” Rhys admitted. His subsystems would have started to go offline from lack of oxygen before Jack could have succeeded in strangling him to death. There was no point in trying to deny it. Even without his arm, he simply would have been trapped in a cycle for eternity, like Sisyphus, with no way to get out but not knowing how to keep going either. 

“But it was more than that.” Rhys partially untucked his shirt. It gave him something to do with his hands. “You needed me. You would have waited until you didn’t anymore.”

Jack’s mouth twisted and then curved into a sneer. “I don’t need anyone, princess. I just don’t throw things away until they lose their value. So, congratu-fucking-lations on figuring out that much, Rhysie. Maybe if you had done that sooner, y’know, accepted your goddamn place in the universe, I wouldn’t have gotten so insanely  _ pissed off. _ Wouldn’t have decided you were just a pretty little meat container that had outlived its use. Tried to vent your scrawny ass into space and shoot you in the fucking face. And then, after you wouldn’t just—  _ let me— _ be done with you for good, that’s when you decided you couldn’t  _ deal _ anymore and that dying was better than living with big, bad Handsome Jack after all.”

The words had been pouring out of him, but at that, Jack seemed to abruptly catch himself. His mouth snapped shut, and he just stared at Rhys.

Rhys’ eyes dropped for a moment; when he looked up, Jack was still staring at him. The air between them felt raw. 

“Unfortunately for me,” Jack said, his tone vaguely hollow. “I never thought you’d go that far.” 

“I’m not sure why,” Rhys replied quietly. “It wasn’t the first time you’ve cornered someone with no other way out.”

His lips curled into a smile as bitter as poison, but then he sighed, and it fell. “So what is the point of— all this?” Jack gestured broadly around him. “What is it that you want?” 

“The universe. A call from my mom,” Rhys said, trying not to sound sad. “Maybe a bagel from my favorite stand.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t what I was asking, and you know it, cupcake. But two out of three of those things are definitely doable.”

Rhys snorted and turned the chair to sink into the rich, black leather. “I wish,” he said, grabbing the bag’s handle and dragging it over to him. “Katagawa nuked the Bagel Bin from the face of Promethea along with my favorite frogurt shop and water park.”

“Oh, man, how petty. I frickin’ love it. Did you cry? Please tell me you cried.” 

“I don’t know that I have functioning tear ducts?” 

Jack actually  _ laughed, _ big and loud, and Rhys smirked reflexively, the paper bag crinkling as he dug around in it. 

“I had the new team of Vault Hunters help me retake control of my orbital laser, then I blew up his pleasure yacht.” Rhys leaned over to set a glass bottle of spring water and a new picture frame onto the desk. The photo was of him with his mother taken mere minutes before she had died.

Elbows on knees, he paused to watch Jack’s mouth slant with discontent as he took in the picture and all of Rhys’ mustached glory. Then he carefully pried off the lid of the takeout container. Of course, it was biodegradable because Rhys tried to be mindful of the types of establishments he supported.

Rhys leaned back in the chair and glanced up at Jack, who was still just standing there. Only now, he was gaping at the contents of the container, looking faintly aghast. 

“It was so cathartic. I wish I could do it again… Oh, and his voice did crack a few times as he freaked out over it, so I think his tear ducts were functioning just fine,” Rhys mused, crossing ankle over knee. He popped a piece of nigiri into his mouth. 

Jack blinked. “Oh Rhys, you absolute asshole! I’d  _ murder _ for some sushi.”

A slow catlike smile graced his lips. “You’re welcome to try, though I think you’ll find yourself unable to actually do it.”

Jack barked a surprised laugh. “You always such a passive-aggressive little shit, or am I special?”

Rhys thought back to how he had turned off random monitors as he was trying to escape Helios, just to be a dick, and lifted the chopsticks in a sort of shrug. “It’s not my preferred modus operandi. I think we just bring out the worst in each other.”

“Nah, cupcake. You’re still getting it wrong. The word you’re looking for is  _ best.  _ Without me, you’d still have that awful upper lipholstery. Like, did you sit up here and nefariously twirl it as you thought over your next move against Katagawa.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Fuck,” Jack said with a laugh. “I can’t even, like, process that seriously, so I’m ignoring it.”

Rhys chuckled around a piece of maki. Then he and Jack grinned at each other. 

For a moment, everything between them ceased to be so tense and resentful, as though their fucked up history had faded away, and it was the way things could have been. Because Jack could be kind when he wanted to be.

Then Jack looked away, and Rhys saw his jaw flex.

There followed an unnaturally long silence that Rhys disregarded. Kept eating since it was the first time he really had the chance to do so that day. 

“So,” Jack began finally. “Strongfork? That name come from your mother or father?” 

Rhys eyed Jack skeptically as he lowered the water bottle from his mouth. “My mother,” he answered. “I don’t know anything about my father other than he left when she told him she was pregnant, and I don’t care to know more.” 

“How’d she die?”

There was another long pause, and Rhys set his food and drink aside to fold his arms over his chest.

He wasn’t as isolated as Jack had been, at least not yet, and Jack knew it. The thought made something inside Rhys fracture somewhat, knowing that his choices would eventually do that. That it was only a matter of time. Especially now. 

The push and pull Jack exerted over everything and everyone was like a tide. There was no escaping it. Trying to use that and become emotionally valuable to Rhys was crucial to him. Strategically, Jack needed him. Rhys understood the logic. 

However, in Jack’s arrogance also subsisted his own loneliness, try as he might deny it. Rhys would not be the only one walking into an obvious trap. And how Jack would handle that… well, that was the critical piece to this puzzle. 

“Everything was on the cores,” Rhys said flatly. “Plus, I know for a fact several articles ran about it due to the funeral and that they would have downloaded to you based on the algorithms.”

“After all the shit we’ve been through, it felt weird reading about you like I don’t know who you are.” 

“Really?” The corner of Rhys’ mouth quirked with a ghost of a smile. “You think you still know me well enough to say that?”

Jack gave a smooth shrug. “Yeah, I do, so the most I did was make sure everyone else was up to the same shit, which they  _ are.  _ Except for Maliwan, but you put them in their place. Sending back Katagawa’s body. The  _ one _ body his parents probably didn’t care to have back after he murdered his siblings. Nice touch. Was that the only ship that made it to the jump point without holes punched in it from the laser?”

By way of answer, Rhys gave Jack a little salute with his chopsticks before fishing out the final roll.

“I’m proud of you, pumpkin,” Jack praised, sounding like he actually meant it. “But the kicker is bandits  _ all _ over the universe? Guess I was right. Anyway, the twin dipshits could use a couple of Eridium collars and a fucking time out, but that vid of her sapping Lillith’s powers—  _ ha—  _ I watched it probably five hundred times.”

Rhys swallowed down the bite, then tapped his chopsticks against the desktop thoughtfully a moment before dropping them into the trash along with the takeout container. “It was a failed assassination attempt on me at a memorial service. Bad shot,” he said, folding down the paper bag and placing it next to the small wastebasket. “My mother, she refused to wear a shield that day, insisted on showing Prometheans that the war was over and that they shouldn’t be afraid to stand firm beside Atlas. Ironically, it still worked.” 

There was a hesitation, and then Jack asked: “Not surrendering, you regret it? Knowing it could have prevented— everything?” 

“No, I don’t,” Rhys admitted in a voice calmer than he felt. “What about you? Do you regret how you got here?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Absolutely not.”

“Right,” Rhys said with a sigh. Opening a drawer, he exchanged his absorption shield and cloaking device out for some medication to counteract the pain beginning to bloom outward from his ECHOeye. 

“You alright there, kitten?” he asked as Rhys chased the pills with a swig of water.

Rhys’ mouth twisted as he fought not to snarl. He felt tired and disappointed, and it made him want to be cruel. “Cybernetics may not have pain receptors, but that doesn’t negate the damage from what I did.”

Jack glared at him, gaze condescending, then he flinched visibly and took a half-step toward Rhys as he lifted the device.

Rhys raised a brow and stood. “As secure as this room is, I imagine you’ll be rather bored in it,” he said, collecting his jacket.

Jack nodded stiffly and followed after Rhys as he began striding toward the far wall. As he neared, a panel slid back. Rhys swiped his wristband, then presented his eye for the retinal scanner, and the hidden door  _ fwished _ open. 

His real office was considerably more functional than the one that existed solely to appear Big and Important. Front and center was a large glass desk, a state of the art computer terminal, multiple holo-screens, and a holo-projector currently displaying a subsection of Skywell. On one side of the room was a workbench with a partially dissected Maliwan sphere on it and several tool and equipment cabinets; off to the left was another desk housing a simple terminal. Rhys stopped in front of it.

“Before you start, I have no interest in ‘using you’ for your ideas, even if I thought you would cooperate. That last one was terrible anyway. An army of ‘Jackified’ corpses? Like you would even let there be more than one of you? Especially when they all thought the same thing and inevitably started fighting? And how were you going to stop the bodies from rotting?”

Jack tilted his head as if considering. “They can’t all be winners, even for a genius like me.”

“Unbelievable,” Rhys muttered, then took a deep breath and exhaled it out slowly, trying to expel all the irritation before continuing. 

He set the device into the dock and powered on the computer. “My lead janitor Terry, oddly enough, found a way to transfer people’s consciousnesses into ratch while trying to save his friend. Which was… nice of him? But also just— gross. Anyway, it’s worked three times now. With some adjustments, I’m sure we can apply the technology to bodies grown out of test tubes instead of giant vermin.” 

Jack looked shocked by the information, staring at Rhys with disbelief or confusion or some equally amusing combination of the two. 

Lip quirking, Rhys dug the case out of his jacket and wordlessly pressed three more data cores into the device. “I’ll start giving you my reasons for all of this, tell you what it is, precisely, that I want, if and only if it ever starts mattering to you.”

Jack didn’t say anything; just studied Rhys as if reevaluating him. Then he rolled his jaw and glanced away. 

Rhys moved toward his desk, the array of holo-screens activating by his proximity, and sat down. After several minutes, Jack shifted, and his thigh bumped into the glass edge. He looked over sharply at Rhys as though startled. 

“One of the cores was an upgrade to the optical sensors, generating a basic overlay of stationary objects for you to interact with. You probably thought about how you missed leaning against stuff, so the device registered that, allowing you to,” Rhys explained, not looking away from the data spreads before him. “In your current state, you don’t need to sit or sleep, but I thought you might enjoy the ability to do them in some capacity.” 

Jack stared at Rhys for a moment longer before stepping around the desk and slowly pulling himself up on the corner of it, facing away. 

It was about two in the morning when Rhys tiredly looked up and found that Jack had moved to the office chair, but was staring at the wide wall of stars that was Rhys’ window again. Sometimes being a hero was choosing not to be the villain, and as Rhys swiveled his chair around to join him, he wondered which it was that he was doing.


	3. Another Life

Rhys furrowed his brow as he manipulated the schematic floating in the air above his palm. After a moment more, he widened the fingers he had pinched over a small area of discrepancy to enhance the image. Then Rhys looked down and scanned the sphere’s remnants with his ECHOeye, highlighting various areas of interest in rapid succession. Filtering the information, comparing, searching for…  _ that.  _ A row of question marks displaying as ‘unknown technology.’ 

He marked it on the data-map, turning the newly added inverted triangle discreetly tucked behind the power core a shimmering golden hue. Flattening his hand, the projection zoomed back out.

_ Digital reconstruction at 92.628%. _

An almost 21% increase. There followed a faint glow of relief, the knowledge that he had found that essential missing piece. That this was it. Rhys curled his fingers in, and the display flicked off. 

“Have this one loaded onto my shuttle,” he said, standing and glancing around. Most of the rubble and gore had been cleaned and cleared, but the detritus around the downed spheres remained. Also, the entire wall where the exterior door had been was missing. In its place was a yellow force field to keep the atmosphere stable.

“Mark it as Priority One,” Rhys added, absently ruffling his fingers through his hair.

“Will do. Shall I notify Raesler?” Patrick asked as he continued tapping furiously away on an ECHO device. 

“No. I’ll escort it to R&D myself once we’re planetside.” 

“All right,” Patrick replied, then reached into his bag to pull out a beacon. Once activated, a thin golden beam of light pulsed softly over the sphere, joining several others around the room; the varying colors denoting significance, but none other equal to this. 

“Lorelei and Zer0 landed while you were examining the…” With distaste evident on his face, Patrick fidgeted with the positioning of his black-rimmed bookish glasses. Of which, Rhys still wasn’t sure if they were just a hipster accessory or not. “Dinklebot,” he finished flatly. 

Rhys exhaled in amusement. His PA was a serious man, not much humored him. With his perfectly styled blond hair, sharp blue eyes, and crisply dressed appearance, Patrick exuded pampered superiority. That didn’t mean he was a douche in a suit, far from it actually. 

Outside of Atlas security and soldiers, Patrick was one of the few select individuals permitted to carry a firearm on Atlas property. A sleek pistol, nothing Rhys allowed to be commercially mass-produced, was tucked neatly into a shoulder holster. A gift after he had ripped Rhys’ gun from his own holster and shot a would-be assassin right between the eyes before the danger had even registered to Rhys. Even with his reflexes enhanced by tech. 

So, taking into account how much time Patrick spent orbiting around Rhys, he sort of doubled as a bodyguard. Especially as of late since Rhys had taken note of how either Patrick, Lorelei, or Zer0 were consistently at his side when he wasn’t safely tucked away at headquarters. An arrangement Rhys recoiled from looking at too closely for a variety of selfish reasons.

He began picking his way over to the entrance but stopped when Lorelei waltzed into the room. She had a massive assault rifle slung onto her back and a travelers mug in each hand. 

“Hey, Rhys! I can’t believe you left without us! Couldn’t wait to get your hands on Katagawa’s dead balls, could you? How’d they feel? Cold? Lifeless? A little smaller than you expected?”

Behind him, Patrick let out a long-suffering, put-out sigh, and Rhys chuckled. Lorelei was whip-smart, a total badass, and unafraid to say whatever the hell she wanted, even to Rhys. Which was rare and massively appreciated. Considering his blind worship of Jack early in his career, Rhys had tried to avoid fostering the same fear and idolatry of himself. Unfortunately, it was something that just came with toppling Handsome Jack and Hyperion in one fatal swoop and then becoming a figurehead in his own right. The karmic slap in the face of that was almost poetic in its irony. 

“This is the only way I was going to ever touch his balls,” Rhys said.

“Fuckin’ right? The number of times he mentioned you joining him on the Zanara—“ Here Lorelei paused to shiver. Though that could also be a side effect of all the coffee she had probably ingested by now. “That was not remotely subtle.”

“I think Katagawa merely admired Rhys as a confrere,” Patrick put in stiffly. “As misguided as the whole ordeal was, it spoke volumes on how the six galaxies view his accomplishments.” 

“That so?” Lorelei asked. “Well, if you want Rhys to touch your balls too, you should cut through all the bullshit and just tell him. He’s right there.” 

Patrick’s offense was instant and, well, offensive? They had worked together for three, almost four years now, and never once had Rhys gotten the vibe Patrick harbored any lust for him. Still, the visceral, knee-jerk reaction to the idea was unnecessary, but then Patrick clipped out: “What is wrong with you? Rhys rebuilt Atlas into an epicenter of innovation and change, dragged this planet out of the gutter—  _ on his own.  _ There is nothing wrong with holding him in high regard for that. Show some respect.” And Rhys immediately felt better.

“I show him plenty of respect by treating him like a normal functioning human that would probably touch your balls if you asked nicely.” 

“Can we stop talking about me touching balls?” Rhys muttered, painfully aware of the soldiers that had stopped in their tracks to listen in. 

“Absolutely not. It’s the whole reason we came up here.” Lorelei handed over one of the travel mugs. Rhys carefully took it in both hands as if it was something that might explode at any moment. It probably could based on the levels of caffeine Rhys knew Lorelei preferred.

“You get me a badass mug, I get you a badass mug,” she explained. 

At that, Rhys frowned down at it. Unlike hers, which Rhys had replaced post-war to more accurately read: _ ‘Greatest Commander in All 6 Galaxies,’  _ Lorelei had given him a matte black insulated mug. Nice, but not badass? It didn’t even have a handle. 

“Anyway. Piece of shit bot put up one hell of a fight. I hope whatever you were after was worth not putting a hundred or so corrosive rounds through its weak point and saving us all this.” Lorelei gestured broadly around them.

Zer0 suddenly  _ poofed _ into the conversation, as he did. “I love a good fight. / A hard-fought battle, that was. / The balls kept coming.” 

Lorelei snickered and shoved at Zer0, making him sway. His surprised  **?** quickly changed into a  **;)** emote as Lorelei winked, which Rhys found adorable. He went to hide his smile by taking a sip, but froze as a holographic… something popped up on his face the split second his lips made contact with the mug. 

“Ohhhhhhmygod! Is that a mustache? Is it  _ my _ mustache?” 

The assassin flashed a delighted **:D** that was seen by only Rhys since he had been using Zer0’s faceplate to take in his reflection before the emote had popped up. Everyone else was just staring at him. 

“It will be truly missed, sir,” a nearby Atlas soldier allowed, and Patrick obligingly raised a fist. They shared a quick, much needed fistbump as Rhys lowered the mug.

Lorelei grinned, clearly proud of herself. “Legends never die, am I right?” 

“Hell, yes! I mean, no. Or whatever the correct response is. Thanks, Lorelei,” Rhys said sincerely, and she waved him off. 

These three colleagues of his, or perhaps friends was a more apt descriptor, they all kept Rhys grounded. Sharp, reliable, unfailingly loyal lifelines that the old Rhys would have followed out of hell without a second thought and thanked them for it. It was too bad that version of him no longer existed in any capacity. 

That thought had the sobering effect he’d been trying to avoid all morning. That without his mother, without that final tether, it was as if Rhys had disconnected from himself. The inconsistency was in the heart of him. 

His eyes drifted between them, and he forced himself to smile warmly. “The point of all this is after the destruction of Hyperion’s Helios Station, the Skywell-27 Mining Array reclaimed its title as the most powerful laser system in the galactic sector. At least until I gave up our Vault key fragment. It is currently operating at 6% capacity.” 

“As we all know, the affectionately named Dinklebot has a powerful shield that will constantly regenerate until destroyed.” Rhys gestured vaguely toward the golden beam of light with his mechanical arm. “It’s sustained by the power core. A constant feedback loop that amplifies output as the system begins to become overtaxed. Applying this technology to the laser should get us pretty damn close to full power, and unlike the key fragment, it’s something I can keep making more of.” 

_______________________________________________________________________________

It was late in the evening when Rhys finally walked back into the office to find Jack pacing the room like a caged animal. At his sudden appearance, Jack came to a grinding halt and just glared at Rhys. He was seething. His hands kept opening and closing as though he were suppressing the urge to lash out. 

Rhys felt a shiver go through him, a reaction to Jack being restrained. He had never felt sadistic before. Unnecessary cruelty was a line Rhys had always considered himself above, even when it came to experimental testing on animals. But permitting Jack to continue operating under the assumption that he was going to retaliate for simply being  _ Jack _ was possibly one of the cruelest things Rhys could conceive of. 

“Have you given any thought to what I suggested last night?” Rhys inquired in an attempt to diffuse some of that. 

The check on his rage suddenly disappeared. “Of fucking course, I’ve thought about it,” Jack snarled. “Thinking is all I can currently do, and I didn’t realize I was going to have a goddamn choice in the matter!” 

Rhys blinked at the resentment. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

Something Rhys couldn’t pinpoint flickered across Jack’s expression, and he faltered, recalling the last time he had apologized to Jack. 

“I— uh. Suffice it to say, I had assumed that would be something you’d want to pursue.” 

“What I  _ want  _ is to know that you’re not going to let yourself get shot or eaten by ratch or some spectacular combination of the two as you go traipsing around this war-torn nightmare.” 

Rhys shifted slightly. He knew better than to think that sentiment stemmed from some concern over Rhys’ well-being. Still, he felt knocked off-kilter by it and couldn’t formulate a response for a moment.

“Atlas is secure. One of the first things I did when I took over was update the security systems using Helios as an example,” Rhys told him. Given how Jack had acquired Hyperion along with his overall intelligence, there was no one better equipped to prevent corporate espionage and assassination attempts. Modeling Atlas’ after his only made good sense. Hidden weapons scanners that pinged security with any violation. Floors locked down should things escalate, and additional reinforcements automatically called in. ID readers paired with facial recognition. Then for anything classified, retinal scans and codes that changed on an arithmetically randomized equation so no one knew  _ when _ it would occur. 

“Everything is back online.” Since Jack seemed hellbent on ignoring the plethora of information at his disposal, Rhys sighed as he began reciting a summary given almost verbatim to the board just last week. “Even the turrets, and additional ones will be built once we finesse some new technology. Maliwan has completely withdrawn from our sector. Ongoing hostilities with the COV continue but are confined to the outskirts of Meridian. Once the Vault was opened, and the Calypsos got what they wanted out of it, the continuous influx of COV drastically tapered off. We suspect it is only a matter of time before it stops altogether since Jakobs on Eden-6 is currently residing in their crosshairs.” 

“The ratch will become less of an issue as clean up of Meridian continues, and the corpses—” Rhys paused as he suppressed a reflexive wave of nausea. “Their primary food source, are accounted for and disposed of properly.” 

“Feels good, doesn’t it, kitten? Building back up everything you broke down? Making it even better than it was before?” Jack’s tone was light, almost cajoling, but then the freezing edge to it returned. “But you’re missing the point. You need to be armed at all times. You will  _ not _ walk around assuming every assassin that comes your way will be a bad shot.”

Rhys felt himself pale, and his chest hurt as though he had been struck. 

Jack clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it against his forehead as though he had a headache. “What I’m trying to say is there will always be someone or other out there looking to kill you now for what you have or for what you’ve done.”

That was not an apology, but it was closer to one than Rhys would have ever expected out of Jack. Rhys stared at him in mild surprise. 

Jack made a face. “Don’t look at me like that. We’ve already established, in a rouuuuundabout way, that I don’t think you’re expendable. That I just got mad and, ah,  _ overreacted.” _

Rhys nearly snorted. “Right,” he said, shrugging out of his vest and tossing it onto a nearby chair. 

Then his flesh and blood hand went to his chest. He felt the smooth metal against his skin and drew his pistol. It was pearlescent; the silvery luminescence a throwback to his predecessors. Rhys held it aloft, making sure Jack saw. He flipped a switch near the safety, and the chamber softly glowed corrosive green instead of shock blue. 

Curiosity bloomed in Jack’s gaze. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, cupcake?”

Smirking, Rhys loosened a strap, and the shoulder holster shimmered into visibility. He reholstered the pistol before pulling the entirety of it over his head to set on the desktop. “Katagawa got a lot closer to taking me out in the end than I care to admit, so now I wear it at all times.” 

“I assume you learned how to shoot properly? You know, without using your ECHOeye in case it ever goes dark?”

“I did.”

Jack hummed. “Good boy.” 

He felt his skin prickle at the praise, and he hated himself for how warm and good it made him feel. To say Rhys had some mixed feelings about Jack, and about what they had both done, was underselling the issue. There was a time where he had been turned on by Jack’s power and money and respect. A time when Rhys had wanted Jack as much as had wanted all those things for himself. So, perhaps Jack was right. Perhaps Rhys had betrayed him first when he jumped at the chance to climb that corporate ladder straight to the top at Jack’s expense. It was a betrayal that had probably hurt him in all the wrong ways. 

Rhys forced himself to not react, to continue meeting Jack’s gaze. “Plus, as a weapons manufacturer, it seemed stupid to not know my way around a gun. Is there anything else that you want?” 

Jack walked over until they were only a foot apart, leaned forward a hair. Just enough to properly menace. “I want you to be accessible in some way, so I know if you have been shot and that I’m just going to live on forever as a handsome paperweight.” 

“Not forever, just fifty lifetimes,” Rhys corrected. “And would access to my schedule be sufficient?”

His expression went blank for a moment before he gave a begrudging nod. “How does that thing work exactly?”

“In its basic form, it’s like a data drive, except the information absorbs directly into it. The information is accessible but cannot be extracted or replicated. I use them within Atlas’ servers as a failsafe for highly classified information.” Rhys pointed at the cube. “For this device specifically, it’s designed to store information around you as to not tamper with what makes you, so delightfully, you.”

That made Jack’s lips twitch into a smile, just for a moment.

“A power supply had to be built into the cybernetics housing you to give you life, so to speak, and the reason for its lifespan is twofold. Once activated, it cannot be powered off, and there is no way to replace it. Any attempt to open up the device will erase you and everything on it.” Rhys shifted his weight, distinctly uncomfortable with admitting those points aloud. 

Jack arched an approving eyebrow. “You don’t fuck around, do you?”

“In my defense, the plan was never to turn you on—“

“Well, you have. I mean,  _ look _ at you,” Jack said, his eyes not meeting Rhys’; they were lower, on his neck. 

Rhys scoffed in the back of his throat and glanced at the ceiling. “—and leave you isolated for eternity—“

“Fifty lifetimes.”

Rhys shot him a look. “I’m sure fifty lifetimes  _ alone _ would feel like an eternity.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. “Point taken.” 

Feeling like a monster, yet again, Rhys sighed. “The device wasn’t constructed until I had a definitive way to get you out. Despite what you might think, this isn’t some exercise in retribution.”

“It isn’t definitive, but I can’t bring myself to give a flying frick.” Jack bit the words out, then paused for a moment as if to collect himself. “I just— I want to know what this is then. What’s the endgame?”

“There isn’t one,” Rhys told him. It was clear his motives mattered to Jack despite his inability to admit it outright. “This… war, that pile of destruction out there, it isn’t a measurement of success. It’s a representation of the price I’m willing to pay to keep it. Success is an abyss that wants everything and is never satisfied. There is always something more required. Be better. Smarter. More ruthless. Give an additional pint of blood. Another life. By the time I realized that, I’d already given it everything that matters.”

“Somewhat ironic, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” he allowed in agreement.

They were both staring at each other. Rhys felt like the only thing Jack could see. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and had to look away. 

“This isn’t me saying you were right with what happened between us or how you treated your daughter or any of the other fucked up shit you did. This is me simply acknowledging that I have no room to condemn you for any of it.”

There was a long silence, then Jack smirked bitterly. 

“Did you at least get your Vault?”

“I did.”

Jack nodded slowly and clapped his hands together, which was interesting to take in since it didn’t make a sound. “Alright,” he said. “Enough of that shit. Let’s grow me a fricking body because if you put me in a ratch, I  _ will _ eat your face off.”

Rhys shuddered. “Well, that thought will haunt my dreams… Aaaanyway, since I’m in the habit of keeping the best secrets to myself for as long as possible,” he allowed leadingly.

“There you go, kitten. Now you’re getting it,” Jack said, grinning. 

Rhys smiled back. “I haven’t acquired a DNA sample of yours yet, and I’d rather not approach Hyperion, though I sincerely doubt they kept one.” 

“Ungrateful _ asshats.  _ No matter, there was an indestructible time capsule of my awesomeness in my penthouse on Helios.”

“I need to know where that was located exactly so we can try to plot out where it landed as closely as possible. Some ex-Dahl lunatic got into the wreckage and just… really did a number on it.”

“Fucking Dahl,” Jack said with feeling. “I’ll mark it on the blueprints.”

Rhys sat down at Jack’s computer and plugged in a holo-projector. He waited patiently as the projection zoomed in on a small room at the very top left of the Helios space station, and a hastily drawn red x appeared. This time when Rhys lifted the device, Jack didn’t even react. Instead, he pulled himself up to sit on the corner of the desk in that oh-so-confident douche bag manner of his as Rhys set up security clearances for the terminal.

“Also, what the actual fuck was the point of having all those useless scientists find a foolproof way to store my consciousness and transfer it into a brand spanking new body when a crazy stalker and a janitor are ones who managed it in the end?”

“Silver lining is I either vented them into space when I took Helios down, or they’re COV and will probably die anyway if they haven’t already.”

“Ha!” 

Rhys listened attentively as Jack rambled on, indifferent with the chain of events he was going to set into motion. On any given day, death was just a moment away. It was a coin toss. Everyone in the universe was just waiting for fifty-fifty odds to land and see if the outcome would be in their favor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that there is a basic foundation for this fic, time should start moving a little easier starting next chapter.


	4. The Things He Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys...  
>   
> Thanks for all the kudos & sweet comments & subs/books. All this AMAZING support gave me the drive to get a pretty solid outline laid out. So, buckle in kiddos! We're looking at ~20 chapters, maybe less, but definitely not more.

“I’m the conductor of the poop train!” 

“Mngahahahaha! For France!”

“The fuck does any of that even mean?” Lorelei asked, confused but unconcerned. 

“No idea, but I never thought I’d miss hearing them say stuff like that. It’s definitely preferable to all the screaming the COV do about their God Queen,” Rhys said. 

**IKR?** was Zer0’s agreement before raising his rifle. 

The conductor of the poop train’s head exploded in a bloody mist. 

This, obviously, did not deter the remaining handful of psychos from charging their direction. Still shouting an array of awkward and colorful things. 

“Wear your face like a condom!” came the most exuberant cry.

“They really do that— the skin pizza thing. I had to peel one off of a sleeping psycho one time. So gross. I almost puked in his mouth. Not one of my finest moments. Anyway, welcome to Pandora.” The broad sweep of Rhys’ arm was punctuated by Zer0 letting loose another round. “The uninspiring wasteland where I discovered my incredibly high pain tolerance and weak stomach.” 

“I like my victims like I like my coffee... in the butt!”

“Okay,” said Lorelei decisively, unholstering her assault rifle. “That one is mine because that was just— uncalled for.” 

A tracker dart caught the offending psycho just over his left eye. The following volley showered the whole area in blood and viscera.

“Nice,” Zer0 declared. 

From there, it quickly escalated into a contest with Zer0 going for all the kill-stealing headshots as Lorelei did her best to thwart him. This sort of thing should probably bother Rhys a lot more than it did, but it was nice seeing them killing bandits because they wanted to, not because they had to. They were having fun, as were the soldiers not so discreetly making bets. Overall, it would be good for morale. 

Not that the battalion had been on Pandora very long, nor was it a particularly terrible assignment. They were all survivors of the war, not new recruits, so the last two weeks securing the area had to be a walk in the park. Plus, it was something different than the seemingly never-ending cleanup and reconstruction effort back on Promethea. Which everyone would be headed home for once this was finished whether Rhys was successful or not.

He would lie, of course, if he wasn’t. A win for Rhys was a win for them all, and again, it would be good for morale. But Rhys hoped for his sake that would not be the case. 

As Rhys waited, he rolled his sleeve up as far as it would go because even in the shade of the ship, he was warm. Within maybe three minutes, the extermination of the standard Pandorian welcoming committee wrapped up. 

“I had a head start. / Not counting the conductor, / We are split even.” 

“It’s not your fault I was momentarily dumbfounded by that truly epic word salad; the victory’s yours.” 

Zer0’s faceplate lit up with a holographic red **:|** , some ellipses, but then, finally, a **\0/**.

“I can’t imagine the loot will be worth it—“ Rhys paused to smirk as Lorelei gasped indignantly and Zer0 flashed a row of exclamation points. “But if you guys want to go grab it, I’ll take care of this real quick.”

As an answer, the pair knocked their forearms together, then like the loot-greedy assholes that they were, headed to the collection of dead bodies littering the empty stretch of desert. Honestly, it was as if the bandits had materialized out of thin air. Anywhere else, Rhys would have definitely labeled that as weird, but it was Pandora, so the thought did not even cross his mind.

What did cross his mind was that he had forgotten how insufferably hot it was in the middle of Pandora’s day cycle. Setting his jaw, Rhys strode out into the relentless heat so he could get this over with. 

This chunk of wreckage gave a pretty clear indication of how incredibly violent the impact had been to snap it off the main structure and wedge it into the earth at an angle. Despite his intention not to do so, Rhys glanced over at where the bulk of Helios Fallen rested. He felt cold and almost hollow inside as he took in the two uneven towers of twisted steel rising out of the crater in the near distance.

“Through here, sir,” said the Captain as they neared the hole where the hull had cracked open from the impact. It looked like a gaping maw with jagged metal and broken structural supports like teeth. 

Rhys gave a sharp edge a wide berth and whacked the side of his dome on the mercifully flat side of a steel beam.

“Watch your head.” 

Rubbing the abused area, Rhys flicked a glare over at the soldier’s back then picked his way forward with the aid of a handful of floodlights. Which was disorienting since the wreckage was spun over 90° and in a complete state of disarray. But at least it had been spared the attention of Colonel Crazypants and his bioweapon. There was only evidence of standard bandit activity. Graffiti, trash, and large sections of machinery were long since stripped from what had to be a floor housing core operating systems. After lowering himself into the elevator shaft, Rhys looked up.

Some of the floors had buckled and collapsed into the ones below. Above? Into the ones above, which were now below… Others were torn open. It was impossible to tell how far up the scavengers managed to get since past a certain point it was bathed in darkness. The opening to the bright sky above was tiny and far away. It gave Rhys an unsettling sensation of sinking. That feeling only got worse when he descended down the interior slope.

The elevator shaft turned hallway was illuminated by strings of lights situated every three meters or so. But the shadows they cast did not help at all. Rhys had to catch himself on piping and framework on several occasions to keep himself from falling flat on his face. Then there was even a section with a stable yet terrifying patch job over a pit of blackness where Rhys had to hope he didn’t randomly sneeze and fall to his death. 

After navigating eight or so floors down in this manner, Rhys finally made it to the penthouse. Only a third of it was accessible because here was where Helios’ hull had caved in on itself like a crushed soda can and created a flat surface. The safe room was on the seam of this, leaving the door frame severely warped. The door itself was off its hinges and peppered with scorch marks and dents from the brute force of opening it. Unsurprisingly, the entire area had been thoroughly ransacked, but that was expected and of no matter. 

“Connect the power supply.” 

There was a “yes, sir,” then Rhys squatted down to brush his fingertips over the inside wall below the inverted door. As he searched, glass and rubble crunched underfoot, but eventually, his hand lit on the hidden switch. A panel in the back wall slid back, presenting the case in question. It was no larger than an ECHO device, intact, and cold to the touch. 

Rhys just stood there for a few pounding heartbeats. Then he placed it carefully into his leather shoulder bag along with a few other items of interest. He forced himself to breathe slowly, to calm down. The list of things one could use to describe Jack was endless.

Friend. Father. Murderer. Idol. Monster. Genius. Enemy. Victim.

But no matter how history decided to categorize him, Jack would be one less person Rhys dropped into the abyss. 

Back above ground, Lorelei and Zer0 were waiting for Rhys at the main gate to the base camp. Which consisted of a smattering of those easy to assemble buildings that every corporation used in these temporary set-ups. It was surrounded by electric fencing with several defense towers. Opposing enough in size to deter most roving bandit parties but small enough that the landing pad had to be outside the base.

“Find anything worth a damn?” he inquired. 

“Zer0 found an itty bitty rack hive!”

With a **:3** , Zer0 held up his much beloved Jackob’s rifle to show off the trinket in question, and Rhys snorted. 

“How cute,” he said.

“What about you?” Lorelei asked. “Did you find anything worth a damn?”

No one knew what Rhys was after precisely, and no one really cared. Instinct was something Rhys had built an empire on, and if there might be something in the wreckage to give him an edge, those who worked for him would not question it. 

Rhys smiled, feeling the slight pressure of friendship, of trust and confidence, and a sense of warning. “I did,” he said. “But I’m not sure what it will mean for me in the end.” 

_______________________________________________________________________________

Maybe it was Zer0’s wistful comment about liking his job but wanting to go back to assassinations someday. Or perhaps it was Rhys laying eyes on one of the obliterated residential wings for the first time. The one where he had lived with Vaughn before Rhys’ shit move against Vasquez threw their lives in two very different directions. 

But there he was, at Roland’s Rest being fiercely hugged by his old friend and roommate, who had full-bodied flung himself at Rhys from a dead sprint while he laughed. For a few seconds, Rhys had been too shocked to hug back, but that either didn’t bother Vaughn or he didn’t notice the delay. 

To be honest, the smell was not great, but then Rhys got a whiff of something fresh and flowery. Which had to be from Vaughn’s hair care regimen because both his mane and beard were just ridiculously healthy looking, very full and shiny. And when Vaughn pulled back, grinning from ear to ear, Rhys swore that the man’s perfectly straight teeth literally  _ sparkled _ in the sunlight. The juxtaposition of these overt signs of cleanliness with his overall grungy appearance was quite puzzling. 

“Bro! I saw Atlas on the side of that sleek ass ship, and I was like, no way!” 

“We were in the neighborhood,” Rhys told him, stuffing his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t attempt to dust himself off. 

“Awesome! Awesome surprise! Zer0! Bro…”

A red  **BRO** popped up on Zer0’s faceplate, then they bro-fisted. 

“And this is Lorelei, the—“ 

“The Commander of your military! I know!” Vaughn held his fist out to her expectantly. “New bro?” 

She didn’t even pause to think about her response. “New bro!” 

“Awesome,” Vaughn mused as they also knocked fists. “Zane told me all about you when he ECHO’d with Rhys’ message. Anyone that helps out my lifelong bro at such epic levels is a  _ bro.” _

Lorelei’s face lit up, open and warm if not a little surprised. “Thanks,” she said. Then her eyes slid to meet Rhys’, holding his gaze for a few meaningful seconds before he had to look away. 

Not many people knew about Vaughn, and it was not that Rhys was embarrassed. Well, at least not about the things people would assume him to be embarrassed about. It wasn’t that Vaughn was a bandit, nor was it his increasing state of undress. Pandora’s inhabitants were as unforgiving as its star, so Rhys got it. And the cape, naturally, protected Vaughn from skin damage. Probably? 

It was that things between them had devolved from inseparable bros to more-or-less complete strangers almost overnight. Rhys just never could wrap his head around Vaughn’s decision to stay on Pandora. To give up everything they had risked everything to get as if he had never wanted it in the first place. 

Calls had felt strained, plagued by stretches where Rhys was not sure how to contribute as Vaughn happily chatted away about anything and everything. Then, one day, Rhys realized they had stopped altogether and wasn’t sure when or why it had happened or if he was relieved or upset about it. 

“So, what are you doing way out here?” Lorelei asked him. 

“COV activity is up in the area, and I’ve been helping the Crimson Raiders scout and stuff. Doing my part to fight the good fight and all that. Oh! Speaking of which, Zer0, one of your Targets of Opportunity are just over this ridge. The one with the big orange shield— I shit you not.”

“Kill my own target, / on Atlas’ Most Wanted list,” Zer0 said thoughtfully, then angled his body toward Lorelei. “And have a rematch?” 

“Hell yeah, let’s go.” 

Zer0’s faceplate flashed a **:D** , then changed to a **BRB**. 

Rhys nodded. As much as he wanted to get back, he did not even consider stopping them. They were efficient in their craft, and removing a high-value target from this horrible place would be beneficial. Plus, this was exactly the sort of thing Rhys had been lowkey hoping would happen. Give them something back for all their hard work and accompanying him, unnecessarily, on this trip. Even if facing Vaughn alone was about as anxiety-inducing as things could possibly get for Rhys.

“There’s a Catch-A-Ride just outside of the garage,” Vaughn said, glancing from Lorelei to Zer0. “Can’t miss it.” 

As they had earlier, the duo thumped forearms before striding off. 

Vaughn took several steps backward. “Come on. Let’s get you under some shade. You look miserable.” 

Rhys could not help the small smile that observation inspired. He had ditched his vest and tie in the ship, but it was of little benefit. Really, this planet should not be inhabited by anything incapable of withstanding a nuclear holocaust. 

“I may be a little spoiled,” he admitted. “The warmest it gets on Promethea is maybe 24°C during the summer cycle.” 

“I’ve always wanted to visit,” Vaughn said. “Especially last month, when… you know. I almost called, but you had enough going on with Atlas and— stuff, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Then to just kick him while he was down the digistruct console’s unexpectedly female drawl proclaimed: _ Getcher rear in gear and Catch-A-Ride, you beautiful sumbitch.  _ Rhys imagined it would have been worse to hear Scooter’s voice after all these years, but that did not make it sting any less. 

Rhys kept walking; kept his face schooled into that carefully neutral expression he had perfected. He never thought he’d be grateful for the years of practice repressing his emotions, and yet there Rhys was. Pushing it all back down because it was dangerous to show weakness. Perhaps more so in the corporate world than on Pandora, where everything wanted to eat your face anyway.

“You wouldn’t have bothered me. She was like a mother to you too,” Rhys said, feeling his chest constrict. “You can visit when the memorial is finished. Her name will be on it with the rest. I’ll send a ship.” 

Vaughn looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Sounds like a plan, bro.”

Rhys nodded stiffly.

“So, what’s up with them?” Vaughn asked, pausing to point as a technical with flames painted on it roared to life. It seemed Lorelei had been nice and let Zer0 man the turret; his faceplate lit up with a  **> :-] ** as they tore across the arid wasteland. 

“It is what it is, and whatever that is, I don’t think they even know.”

A guitar riff echoed off of the rocky ridges, and Zer0’s **> :-]** emote quickly switched to a **!** then finally a **< 3**.

“It’s just a relief to see them back to the way they used to be,” he said, turning to follow Vaughn up a metal ramp to the upper level. “To know that the war didn’t destroy everything.”

There was a hesitation, then Vaughn said. “You can’t carry— everything on your shoulders. None of it’s yours.”

“It is, though,” Rhys said as he took in the site. A few buildings in surprisingly decent shape, a couple of vending machines, and a small square housing the memorial to Roland. Feeling the weight of Jack’s DNA against his hip as he walked. “I have no delusions about that.”

A breeze blew through the camp at that precise moment. 

“You fight for what’s yours, for what’s important to you, right?” Vaughn led him under the awning of the main building. It was cooler there in the shade, and Rhys gratefully sat down in a metal folding chair. 

“It’s all any of us can ever do,” Vaughn continued, plopping down in the chair next to Rhys. “And I’m sorry about your mom, but you have to grieve. You have to grieve so that you can be free to feel something else.”

His mouth quirked ironically at the corner. 

Rhys was not sure what it was that he had ever fought for. All he knew was that he would grieve over the cost later, if and when he had the space for it. For now, it was best for Rhys to not think about anything other than the present. 

“I’m okay,” he said. “Better than I was.” 

“Yeah, okay. I’m sure that’s true,” Vaughn said, not sounding entirely convinced. “I like the new arm, by the way.”

Rhys lifted his prosthetic. The silver filament designs woven into the Atlas red were subtle, only really perceptible when light played against the flexes and shifts of his movement. 

“I have some really good people on board, and if you ever get tired of the bandit life, you’ll always have a place at Atlas.”

“Thanks,” he replied sincerely. “Maybe someday I’ll get tired of all this, but for now…” Vaughn trailed off and looked out over the beige landscape. One mile nearly indistinguishable from the next. Rhys felt a pang in his chest at the overwhelming contentedness on his face.

“I get it,” he said. “We all have our place in the universe. But listen, I know I haven’t been the greatest friend over the years, but—” 

“No! Dude. You’re busy, I know. Trust me, I know. And I’m telling you, everything is fine between us.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Rhys smiled, hesitant but warm. “Bro knee?”

“Bro knee.” 

Arms folded across their chests, they bounced their knees together. Then Rhys sighed as he felt that little ball of anxiety in his chest unravel some. 

“So,” he said. “Tell me all about what you’ve been up to since we last spoke.”

“Oh, man! It’s been crazy!”

As Vaughn filled him in, Rhys realized unlike himself, his friend wasn’t broken or damaged. He was just an older version of the man Rhys had always known. Unchanged, yet so utterly unfamiliar. It felt like a failing on Rhys’ part, but he hardly paid it any mind. At least not at the moment. He couldn’t, not with Vaughn making him laugh.

Somewhere not too far away, Lorelei and Zer0 were probably high fiving in the middle of a sea of corpses they had made together, and for a brief moment in time, the weight of everything lifted from his shoulders, and Rhys dreaded its return.

_______________________________________________________________________________

It was four hours past his scheduled return when Rhys walked into their shared office to find Jack, unsurprisingly, keyed up beyond measure. Whatever knee jerk reaction Jack may have had was tempered, however, as he took in Rhys’ bedraggled appearance.

“What happened?” he asked after staring at Rhys for several seconds. “Did a bandit attack you, and you decided to give it a smothering hug instead of shooting it in the face?”

Rhys laughed. There was, in fact, a literal human shaped dirt imprint on his cream-colored shirt and light grey slacks, and how close Jack hit on the truth was just hilarious to him. 

“I do think my hugging skills are pretty solid, but I’ve never squished anyone into dust.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. Unamused. “What happened?” he asked again.

Rhys shook his head. “Nothing happened, Jack. I retrieved the sample with no issues,” he said, lightly placing his hand on the bag for emphasis. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll take it to Raesler. Just as we discussed. I only stopped to see Vaughn, who is actually a bandit now, and he did sort of attack hug me.”

Jack grew visibly angry. “I said  _ accessible, _ you fucking idiot! What’s so goddamn hard to understand about that!?” he asked as though Rhys were thick.

Over the past few weeks, Rhys had readapted to reading Jack’s moods. He was cruelest and most volatile when he was vulnerable. Of course, Rhys cared that he had caused Jack undue stress, but he was, quite frankly, too exhausted from the weight of everything bearing down on him once more to argue. Add in the sweat, and persistent feeling of having native grit  _ everywhere,  _ and Rhys really just wanted to be standing under a spray of cold water.

He gave Jack a listless smile. “I’ll do better,” he said. “Give me a few days to figure out the programming, but I’ll set up a direct ECHO line.”

Jack blinked. 

“I found something you may, or may not, want,” Rhys added as he unbuckled his bag. “I accidentally stepped on it and broke the frame, but I stopped and replaced it before coming up.”

It was an old picture, but it was probably the only one left in the universe of Jack and his daughter. He was crouched down by the little black-haired girl, and her skinny arms, void of the telltale Siren tattoos, were wrapped around his neck as they both smiled. It was strange to Rhys, seeing Jack genuinely happy. But then again, he had the same thought about himself when Vaughn showed him the photograph of the two of them and Rhys’ mother taken over a decade ago.

Rhys set the frame down on Jack’s desk, and the man nodded slowly. Nothing verbal, but it was as much of an assent as Rhys had expected. 

“I need a shower,” Rhys said with a sigh. “And some food. But if you want, I’ll grab something and come back, and we can go over everything.”

Jack just stood, staring at Rhys for a minute. 

“Nah,” Jack finally said. “You look like skag shit, go get some sleep, Rhys. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight, Jack.”

He did not respond, or if he did, Rhys didn’t catch it, lost in his thoughts as he was. Thinking about how he, too, destroyed the things he loved, and how it might be best if he wasn’t free to feel something else after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not going to drag out bringing Jack back, but I feel like growing a body would take time. So I'm estimating about 3 more chapters before I ramp up to that. Hopefully, the pacing feels right to everyone.
> 
> Shout out to Hartlynk for pointing out the subtle paisley decor on Rhys' prosthetic, because now I can't unsee it and I'm SO glad.
> 
> My mood/inspo music for this this is a little all over the place, but meh, it helps me brainstorm on my commute. For anyone interested: [here is the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0QXCp96jKFrruBeCN121XO?si=dypWXJ-6Sfeoz9AHpsy9ew). Feel free to rec me songs as well. 🙌


	5. Rebalance the Scales

_ Pop! _

Rhys clenched his jaw as he forced himself to think past his sudden irritation with the gum-chewing Dr. Penelope Raesler. Not once had she done that while expounding on the early stages of embryonic cell development. Nor while recapping the progress of each individual multilayered Jack gastrula currently housed in his own little Petri dish. No, she had waited until Rhys started speaking. As per usual.

After a beat, he took a breath and tried again. “When will they be ready to move into the pods?” 

“In another week or so,” she replied. “If we move them too early, we risk potential complications with cellular replication from the accelerant: cancers, immunodeficiency, deformities, and the like. I’m assuming we’re currently cloning three bodies from the same sample as a precaution. However, I would still advise against rushing the process.”

“Yes, as a precaution,” Rhys said, eyeing her. Being the sole person with most of the pieces to this puzzle, and smart enough to put them together, Rhys would not delude himself into thinking she did not know what this was about.

“I have no intention of causing you any problems or inconveniencing either one of us any more than necessary,” he added leadingly. “So, needless to say, rushing this is about the farthest thing from my mind.”

“Good to know.” Raesler scratched the side of her nose. “Well, from there, it will depend on how— the subject takes to the accelerant. But based on the target age you’ve provided, we are looking at three to five months before a body is ready for the transfer.”

Absently, Rhys nodded as a reminder blinked across his HUD; he had a meeting with Weapons R&D in twenty minutes. Then he looked over at the nearest pod. It was a floor-to-ceiling cylindrical chamber made of glass and steel set in the far wall, tubes and wires springing out of it every which way. Like the rest of the cybernetics floor, the small room housing it was sterile white and clinical. Not a single piece of paper or ratch dropping in sight. Just as things should be. 

“Each room has its own power supply and emergency backup,” she continued. “The doors and pods are steel with blast-proof glass. Janitorial bots without optical sensors will take care of the lab, and despite being allowed a team of my choosing, I’ve decided against it. Once the subject is placed into the accelerant, it’s not like there will be a ton to do. It’ll just be like… watching a plant grow, but it’s a person, technically several of the same person, in a tube instead of a plant. But, I can do that while I work on the tech and when that’s—“ 

Rhys turned back to look at her again, this time with his eyebrows raised. “Pen, are—”

_ Pop! _

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, snapped her gum again, a flash of pink against her dark brown skin. “Yes, of course.”

“Have I ever asked you to do anything unethical?” he inquired at length. 

“No, you haven’t,” Raesler answered without hesitation.

Rhys smirked faintly. “Am I doing so now?” 

Raesler met his gaze unflinchingly as she always had. After a moment of thought, her slightly puzzled expression shifted to one of determination. “No.” 

“Good,” he said with a sharp nod of approval. “Then, may I ask what the problem is?” 

“I see, now, why you’re really allocating me that larger R&D budget I’ve always wanted. However, it’s probably not going to do either of us a whole lot of good once he’s up and walking around,” she said, and Rhys immediately understood her meaning. 

Really, Rhys had no clue what to expect. Would Jack act on impulse, or whatever it may be, stick to the long game? Were those two options even mutually exclusive for him? And where exactly would Rhys slot into the overall picture? Although honestly, he did not plan on wasting any time trying to unravel these questions. Simply being prepared for the worst was all that was necessary. Anyway, he couldn’t blame Raesler for the concern.

“It will be fine,” Rhys said. “I’ve put quite a bit of thought into this, and if you can’t trust me, you can trust that.”

“It’s not that. I just spent a lot of time putting your head back together, and it would be really ungrateful of you to let him back in there. So don’t.”

He sighed faintly before the guilt struck him. Rhys had discovered there was a chasm between how people saw him, how he wanted to be seen, and who he actually was. That it was possible to know someone and yet not know them at all, including oneself. These new relationships Rhys had built, they were all victims of this. A large part of Rhys was uncomfortable with that, but he also couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it.

“I think it’s safe to say,” Rhys began slowly. “That we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I had ever gotten him out.”

“Be careful, Rhys, since I’m assuming you aren’t going to stop.”

“I can’t.”

She stared at him and smiled sadly. Her grey eyes were strangely bright and warm.

Rhys scrubbed a hand over his face and looked out the window. Down into the lower level, where Raesler, his R&D Director and the head of Atlas’ Cybernetics Department, would be rebuilding the transfer technology. “How is—”

“Hey! Hey, Mr. Strongfork!”

Rhys jumped, startled by Terry’s sudden appearance as the nearby door whooshed open. Which, of course, he had seen coming, it just always scared the shit out of him. Not literally, thank god, but definitely metaphorically. Christ, it— he was a fucking  _ ratch, _ and just looking at his— its gnarly teeth and black beady little eyes made Rhys want to vomit. 

“Oh! Didn’t mean to startle you! It’s just always great to see you! Hey, Glenn! Mr. Strongfork is here!” 

_ Perfect,  _ was Rhys’ first thought, quickly followed by  _ whhhhhat the actual fuck was I thinking when I agreed to this?  _ He kept both of these thoughts politely to himself to deter any impromptu face eating. 

There was a weird screeching noise much closer than Rhys would have liked, then an: “Awesome!” 

“Pen told us all about how we’re going to help your friend come back!”

Rhys resolutely ignored that perfectly normal human voices were coming from these monstrosities. If he thought about this insane thing too hard, his mental processing capabilities began to break down. “Yes,” he said, eyes sliding to meet Raesler’s. “My friend.”

She shrugged a little and answered his unfinished question. “The rest of it is coming along. I’ll wrap up the mapping by week’s end, and then we can start on the tech. So, it should be ready within the month.”

“We?” 

“Yeah!” Put in the floppy-eared ratch, Glenn, as he crawled through the doorway. His claws softly scraping against the flooring. “Helping out is the least we could do since you let Pen set up a place for us.” 

For a moment, Rhys did nothing but stare at the wall, wondering if there was a single thing left in his life that wasn’t utterly fucked up. Then, mercifully, the time flashed red in the corner of his vision, reminding Rhys that he did not need to come up with some bullshit excuse to escape. 

“Uh. Yeah, that makes sense,” Rhys said, a hint of claustrophobia setting in as Glenn’s tail brushed against him on the way past. “Sorry, but I, uh— I gotta go. I have another meeting over in Weapons.” 

“Same time next week?” Raesler asked, decidedly sympathetic, even if she was unwilling to take his discomfort into consideration. 

“Of course.” One more flash of a smile and Rhys was gone. The door locked behind him with a click of finality, and he let loose that full-bodied shudder he had been holding back. 

“Fuck,” Rhys muttered, tugging at his tie and pulling it off-kilter. Then he allowed one more shiver before exiting Raesler’s wing into the main hall. While waiting for the elevator, Rhys cursed again and pulled up the ECHO display in his palm. He selected ‘Patrick’ from his recent contacts. 

Almost immediately, there was a click, and the Atlas logo slowly revolving in his palm was replaced with Patrick’s head and shoulders.

“Hey, Rhys, I’m—” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” The glass doors slid open, and Rhys stepped in. Ignoring the pair of lab assistants visibly shocked by who had just commandeered the elevator they had been waiting for, he interfaced with the controls and began to ascend. They would not have clearance for his part of the building anyway. Letting them tag along to another floor would have only pinged security, and Rhys did  _ try _ to deter a high-stress work environment. 

“I just— I need to take the rest of the day,” Rhys offered lamely.

Patrick made a face of understanding and stopped looking quite so murderous. “Did one of them touch you?”

Rhys involuntarily shivered again. “Just my boot, which I should probably burn now, but my mom got me this pair… Anyway, can you handle this meeting with Weapons and cancel everything else?”

Patrick opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something but then swallowed the words. 

“Look, you helped me with Lorelei’s rifle, and you don’t even like her.”

Patrick’s eyes flashed with irritation. “I tolerate Lorelei just fine, and that wasn’t about her. It was about the gun.”

“Okay, whatever,” Rhys said, feeling his patience fraying. “Just do that again. Weed out the ideas we’ll both hate and have a report sent up.”

“All right,” he said, then paused. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second’s hesitation, but that was enough to clue Rhys in.

“What’s the problem?”

“Hyperion called. Mr. Lattimore wants to meet with you.” 

His lips twitched at the corners. He had seen this coming. “Sure. Set something up, but make it obnoxiously inconvenient.”

Patrick smiled sincerely. “Will do,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Patrick. For everything,” Rhys replied, then hung up. 

By the time he had switched elevators and made it to the 250th floor, Patrick had finished clearing his schedule. Without a doubt, Jack was about to enter full-on paranoia mode. Rhys could feel it coming on. However, he was still too preoccupied with his own crisis to really give a damn. At least until he noticed how Jack studied him with slightly narrowed eyes once Rhys strode into the room.

His decision to come up here and face Jack in a moment of glaring weakness instead of soldiering on with his day left Rhys feeling unmoored. Yes, there was something wrong. No, it had nothing to do with Jack, but he didn’t know that. One misplaced word, Jack would explode, and Rhys did not feel in any condition to handle any additional stress. He supposed that even Jack had limits, or bad days at least, but that didn’t mean Rhys would be allowed them. His fists clenched at his sides. Then Rhys fixed his tie and ran his hand down the placket of his shirt. 

He blankly met Jack’s gaze for several seconds. “Did you know people eat ratch?”

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“I found out during the war,” Rhys said in a wooden voice. “Lorelei’s favorite burger joint, their meat is over 60% ratch. She doesn’t care. Still eats it, in fact. I almost fired her for it. Just like, knee jerk fired her when she told me.”

“Did someone try to feed you ratch for lunch?”

“Fuck,” Rhys swore under his breath as a surge of nausea rose up his throat. He tugged on his tie, loosening it again, and undid the top button because it felt like he was choking. 

“If they did, I hope you shot them, and if you didn’t because of your  _ murder hangups.” _ Jack rolled his eyes skyward as if he bore the weight of eternal suffering. “I will. Y’know, once I have my banging body back, because that’s just wrong.”

“No. If you off any of my people—“ Rhys jabbed a finger at the door to emphasize the point. “Unprovoked. Whatever truce is being upheld on my end expires.” 

Jack grinned slyly. “Unprovoked? Kitten, you wouldn’t let me shoot one of your people for feeding you ratch?” he asked before his voice went low. “I’d be doing it for you.”

Warmth crept through his chest, even as Rhys suppressed another wave of nausea. He had to look away because Jack was staring at him with that strange intensity again. The one that made Rhys feel like Jack could see the very thoughts tumbling through his mind. 

“I don’t know. Don’t ask me shit like that.” Rhys’ eyes flicked back up and met Jack’s. There was definitely something predatory in his gaze now. “And no one tried to feed me ratch, so if we could stop talking about it, I’d appreciate it.”

“Someone needs to feed you something,” Jack said. “If you get any thinner, you might just disappear and then what am I going to do?” 

Rhys looked down at himself, then back up at Jack, arching an eyebrow. “It’s stress. It’s not like I don’t feed myself.”

“Not ratch at least.” 

The muscles of his stomach clenched again. “Jack. Stop. If I had any food in me, I would have literally hurled on the floor by now.” 

“So, you’re not feeding yourself?” His tone was accusing. 

“Not before I go to Raesler’s lab!” Rhys snapped in frustration. “Pen wanted to keep the janitor and his friend on— well, not on payroll or in any official capacity, but build them a top secret habitat thing and give them security clearance. Which, like—  _ fair— _ because Terry is obviously some sort of mastermind, and Glenn is... moral support, I guess? But Raesler, she just lets them wander around as if they’re totally normal assistants. They were even wearing little lab coats today, or I’m having a stroke. They were either actually wearing lab coats that she had made to fit their creepy-ass bodies. Or, I am having a stroke.”

He looked at Jack despairingly and said: “I hope I’m having a stroke.”

“Oh no, Rhysie, baby! Do you smell toast?”

Rhys could not stop himself from laughing at the look of mock horror on Jack’s face. “Shut up! It’s not funny.” 

Jack smirked, and it was loose and crooked. “Then why are you laughing, cupcake?” 

“I have no idea, but goddamnit, I  _ hate _ ratch.” Rhys’ body shuddered with revulsion even as he laughed, which was an odd way to channel stress, but the release calmed him. 

He sighed as the fit wound down. “The shit I do for the people I care about,” Rhys mused as he rubbed his eyes. 

“What’s Raesler to you?” Jack asked after a short delay.

Rhys tilted his head to the side. His interactions with Jack were complex and nuanced, but it was unlike him to noticeably pry. These faceless people in Rhys’ life, they had a place and a function, but beyond that, there was nothing to discuss. Not one thing. Because Jack did not care, and Rhys didn’t expect him to.

Their conversations chiefly revolved around Atlas, how Rhys had gotten here, and where he planned on taking the company. They even joked about the number of deaths Rhys was responsible for because that alone was sufficient to damn him. Neither one of them would ever be able to rebalance the scales anyway, so what did it really matter. 

One could argue this level of openness would be Rhys’ demise. However, Jack was not interested in Atlas. At least no more than a businessman tended to be interested in any random company. 

No, what Jack wanted was Hyperion. What he, indisputably, saw as rightfully his, because Jack was precisely the same person he had been the night Rhys ripped him out of his head. The only difference was that Jack’s knowledge of Rhys had broadened a great deal since then. 

“She was the lead surgeon on the repair and rebuild of my head slash cybernetics.”

Jack’s expression tensed. There was a flash of bitterness in his eyes. This always happened when they touched too close to their history. Rhys avoided it mainly to prevent himself from tumbling into some very unpleasant place inside himself. However, there also existed a spiteful part of Rhys that wanted Jack to remember the moment. To drive it into his memory that he wasn’t indestructible. 

“Hyperion?”

“No. You crippled Atlas, but you didn’t clean them out,” Rhys reminded.

“You’re welcome,” Jack said flatly.

All Rhys cared to offer on the subject was a shrug. Hyperion would have been just as liable to kill him as to save him in the aftermath. Sure, he had purged them of a clearly unstable Handsome Jack, but destroying Helios in the same breath would have been a massive blow to the company. And it was. So, Atlas had been the only logical choice.

Cassius had stabilized Rhys, vouched for him, and from there, everything fell into place. Once he got to Promethea, Raesler had whisked him away to the med wing without a word. When he regained consciousness a week post-op, she had said:  _ ‘You’re lucky you didn’t die.’ _ But hadn’t he though? That man, that version of Rhys, did not exist anymore.

“They called me today, by the way.” 

Jack rolled his jaw and looked up at the ceiling, tilting his head back. “What did they want?”

“Unquestionably, Lattimore wants to know what I was doing combing through the wreckage where your penthouse was located. Hyperion may have cut their losses and withdrawn from Pandora, but they’ve never stopped monitoring the planet. I told my PA to set up a meeting.”

Jack looked over at Rhys, and his expression grew vicious. “You could have had everything,” he sneered. “But no, you had to be a vindictive little bitch and let those idiots destroy my legacy.”

“I do have everything,” Rhys replied. “So, I think it goes without saying that I didn’t let them destroy anything, and in three to five months, I’m sure they’ll get a pretty decent idea of what it was exactly I was doing in the wreckage.”

Jack stood frozen for several moments, then his lips twisted as he glanced away. 

Rhys’ mouth slowly stretched into a smile, amused by seeing Jack a little outside of himself. “What?” he asked. “Did you think I was going to keep you locked away here forever?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Jack quirked a brow. “Clearly, you’re super into me.” 

He scoffed to himself as his eyes dropped down to his boots. At some point, he had partially untucked his shirt. “Once upon a time, Jack,” Rhys said dismissively, then began to fix his clothing. “But listen, Lattimore never meets with me in person, so I like to make the vid calls as inconvenient as possible—“

“He knows you have me,” laughed Jack. “Maybe he’s not as stupid as he fucking looks.” 

“He definitely suspects. When they found no trace of you on Helios’ servers, they left the wreckage and everything in it to the bandits and rakk and distanced themselves from me.” Rhys shrugged as he adjusted his tie. “But I have my own legacy, so why in the universe would I still want yours?”

Jack unfurled a smile of excessive width. 


	6. The Magnitude of His Influence

The three-piece suit Rhys wore, well, it  _ suited  _ him, and exceptionally well. It was perfectly tailored, highlighting his tall, slim figure to perfection. The collar of his black shirt was crisply ironed, he had on a matching silk tie, and red diamond cufflinks shone from under his jacket's sleeves. Rhys had even switched arms to the one Cassius had fabricated to balance out the hints of Atlas silver and red in his otherwise all black attire. 

“What’s wrong with my suit?” he asked, gesturing downwards. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Jack murmured as his eyes slid over Rhys as though he were taking note of every detail. 

Rhys was quite good at not betraying the buzz of warmth that found him when he heard the low rumble of Jack’s voice. Good at ignoring the prickle of gooseflesh across his skin at the dissecting gaze. Jack tried to manipulate him often enough in this way that it was easy to disregard. So, Rhys just looked at Jack and raised his eyebrows.

“Then why do I need to change?”

“This meeting isn’t about him, it’s about you.”

“Right,” Rhys agreed. “So, why wouldn’t I want to look my best?” 

“Because it makes you look like you give a shit what he thinks, and I hate to break it to you, cupcake, but this asshat is never going to respect you. Not like he should. Looks weak to put effort into someone that’s not going to lift you up and put that pretty face of yours on the pedestal it deserves.” 

Rhys shifted his weight, feeling strangely lost. He used to think he didn’t have the disposition to be a good liar, but he had figured it out. Learned how to present certain facades at certain times. Be calm and understanding one minute but then ruthless and aloof the next. His actions were designed to always inspire a specific degree of respectability. Whether he received it or not was a different matter. 

It was all a game where Rhys watched himself in a detached manner as he tried to force the world around him to bend to his will. 

“What am I supposed to wear?” he finally asked. Naturally, Rhys suspected this was a trap, a way to undermine him, but he also couldn’t parse how that would benefit Jack in this situation. 

“What you always do,” Jack said with a wave of his hand. 

His brow must have wrinkled with uncertainty because Jack rolled his eyes then added. “There should be no ‘CEO persona.’ You  _ are _ the CEO, kitten. You do you. Fuck everyone else.” 

Rhys tapped the metal of his fingers against his thigh, nodding slightly as his suspicion dwindled away. Not only did it make good sense, but Rhys knew that strategy had always worked for Jack. Technically, it was not a strategy. Not for Jack, at least. What that boiled down to was Jack believed absolutely no one was on any level anywhere  _ close _ to him. If anyone was ever stupid enough to question his supremacy, they ended up another dead dumbass with lead bouncing around in their skull.

“Alright,” Rhys said, striding across the office. He hated catering to Lattimore anyway. Hated swallowing the unspoken assumption that Rhys didn’t get where he was on his own. That he didn’t  _ earn  _ every ounce of what he’d become: influential and authoritative, a threat even. 

“Where’s your other arm?” Jack asked. “The red one with the stupid paisley shit all over it?”

Rhys stopped and swung around. “I dropped it off for a tune up this morning,” he told him, maybe just a tad defensively. Rhys was partial to that one. State of the art, wonderfully designed,  _ fashionable, _ strong, yet not as heavy as the one currently equipped. “Standard maintenance.”

“Yeah. Mhm. Get it.” 

“Fine,” he replied stiffly. 

“Aww, don’t be like that, princess. You’ve literally got the greatest guy in the universe helping you stage a power play,” Jack said. “Now, then. Get changed. Chop-chop.”

Rhys took a careful breath as he suppressed an eye roll, then pressed his thumb to a hidden scanner. To Jack’s credit, he didn’t say anything about the door built seamlessly into the wall at the far end of the room sliding open. Rhys suspected that, given the utilization of hidden compartments in his office and penthouse on Helios, Jack shared the same affinity for secret passages and rooms as Atlas’ founder. 

The main building of Atlas HQ, specifically Rhys’ section, was crammed full of them, and he had found each one. Anytime the dimensions of a room had felt off, Rhys set to work, tapping lightly and searching for imperfections in the walls and furniture until he felt something give. All of the long-forgotten areas had been modernized as Rhys saw fit, and their entrances upgraded from cleverly built doors to highly secure points of entry.

But, of course, Jack had something to say once Rhys returned, even though he had changed and made Patrick fetch his other arm so he could switch it out. Because Jack was, unsurprisingly, still unsatisfied. 

“Ditch the vest. Let him see your holster, and do that thing with your shirt and tie.”

“What thing?” Rhys asked even as he shrugged out of his vest.

“Y’know, where you kinda half-ass untuck it and loosen your tie like you  _ know _ you’re untouchable.” 

His mouth quirked in faint bemusement. It was an old habit. One he had made himself stop while working for Hyperion. Because rising to the top there had meant being meticulously dressed and exuding confidence, usually in a douche way, at all times. Rhys wasn’t sure when the habit had resurfaced, but he seemed unable to stamp it out this time around. 

The real issue was that Rhys didn’t realize Jack had been paying so much attention to his idiosyncrasies, which only made him doubtful again. Still, Rhys adjusted the shoulder holster until it shimmered, then became visible. The black leather was a good match for his boots anyway. Which had been diligently cleaned since the ratch-touching incident in Raesler’s lab two weeks ago, and they would not be making a return visit.

“Thaaaaat’s it,” Jack said as Rhys finished complying with his wishes. Then, he growled, and Rhys had to close his eyes against the way that sound moved through him. 

“There’s my Rhysie.”

Rhys glanced at Jack, who still hadn’t looked away, and he cleared his throat because if he didn’t, his voice would crack. 

“Would you like to sit in on this meeting?” 

Jack looked slightly surprised. 

“I don’t need or want you to coach me through it, or anything like that. I’ve been doing this for years,” Rhys added in clarification. “But it’s apparent you’re setting me up to piss Lattimore off, so you might as well enjoy the resulting fallout.” 

He did not react for a moment, then the corner of his mouth curled up. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

“I’m sure I will,” Rhys said, smiling. “So, shall we?”

Jack grinned. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

Rhys’ boots clicked and echoed as he walked down the long hallway to the elevator. They descended twenty-five floors of empty space, excessive really, before arriving at the reception area of his office. Jack raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he took in the massive, dark area accented with neon lights. Like most of the campus, it was purposefully designed to mirror the Meridian metropolis, which in itself was intimidating and impressive. Rhys sort of missed the feeling of perpetual night that he had grown accustomed to while on Helios. Still, the eternal twilight found amid the towering skyscrapers was an enjoyable close second; Rhys didn’t care what Jack thought.

He turned and headed toward the conference room. 

“Did your secretary just ignore you?” 

The corner of Rhys’ mouth twisted as he shot Jack a look. Surely, he didn’t expect Rhys to just start addressing thin air outside of the confines of his office. Not to mention, Rhys seriously doubted Jack had allowed anyone to talk to him that didn’t need to, so he was sort of puzzled as to why that would even matter.

Jack shrugged then launched into a tangent on how the dark atmosphere could create eyestrain related workplace injuries. This seemed ironic since Rhys could vividly recall Hyperion Yellow burning into his retinas under the fluorescent lighting, but whatever. It was an energetic monologue that did not require Rhys’ participation.

Usually, these ramblings aligned with some topic at hand, but right now, Rhys just didn’t know what Jack’s problem was or if he was only trying to distract him. After a few more minutes of Jack complaining, Rhys began to wonder why he had thought this was a— not a  _ good _ idea, but not a stupid one, when Jack broke off with an emphatic: “The  _ fuck—“ _

Rhys looked up from the glowing blue figures floating in the air to find Jack staring at Patrick, looking strangely consternated. 

“Who is this asshole touching you?” 

“Thanks, Patrick,” Rhys said by way of answer as his PA frowned and rolled his fingers together to rid himself of whatever piece of offense he had found stuck to Rhys’ shirt. 

“You’re welcome,” Patrick replied. “I have to admit I am glad to see you changed. Even I thought you were going overboard wasting such a flawless appearance on Lattimore. Letting him see the holster is a nice touch too.” 

Patrick’s approval was an immediate relief. Rhys’ mouth started to open when Jack swooped in suddenly, roaring:  _ “Nobody asked you, Patrick.”  _

Dismissing the display in his palm, Rhys raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes like Jack was completely inconveniencing him right now because  _ he was.  _ Honestly, he did not know what he had anticipated, but it wasn’t this. Though Rhys probably should not be surprised given that Jack would rather shoot someone than talk to them. Which only begged the question of how Jack had ever managed Hyperion, or more importantly, any sort of past human relationships.

Jack threw his hands up in exasperation before he started bitching some more. 

“I’m sure this will be the most unforgivable thing I’ve done yet,” Rhys said, continuing on with the conversation at hand. 

“Given that he sees you as dismissible, it is only fitting that you return the sentiment. It’s a justifiable one on your end, at least,” Patrick said with a proud smile before returning his attention to an ECHO device.

Taking his place, Rhys ran through a mental checklist of prioritized items that would need to be addressed afterward based on his expectancies. It helped him tune out Jack, who was now alternating between mildly insulting him and grossly insulting Patrick. 

The lights came on above him, defining the darkness further in the room. A massive holo-screen positioned in the center of the table flickered to life. 

There was a moment of stillness. 

The Atlas logo made three complete rotations before Lattimore appeared front and center. His suit was expensive, silk, and finely tailored just as Rhys’ had been. Behind him, Rhys could see ostentatious displays of wealth and lines of data marching downward from several holo-screens. As usual, the scene was clearly orchestrated to give the impression that Lattimore was the center of the universe. The master of fate. Totally at ease as he added to his fortune without lifting a finger. 

“Rhys,” he said, lip curling faintly as he took in Rhys’ attire. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding your responsibilities to play inconsequential games with how difficult it was to schedule this meeting.”

“I’ve been busy.” 

“I suppose that’s true considering the circumstances and your unnecessary hands-on approach to everything.”

Rhys gave Lattimore a thin smile that he had learned from his time at Hyperion. “I’m a firm believer that power is an illusion if you don’t take direct control of it.”

“Clearly,” he replied in a snide tone. “I also realize that you did not ask for the war, but given the outcome, you must be pleased to have your… worth acknowledged. Congratulations, it seems, are in order.”

“The war here ended months ago, and you want me to believe this meeting is about offering me accolades?”

“No,” Lattimore replied, elevating his nose with a sniff. “It is about your worth. I am certain none of the other Supreme Seven will make the same mistake.”

Rhys looked down and truly smiled then, marveling internally at Lattimore’s audacity in implying Atlas hadn’t long since reclaimed its place among the rest. 

“Kitten, it’s time for you to  _ sit down,” _ Jack murmured darkly into his ear. “And make this  _ asshole _ say what he really means.”

He obliged, settling into a large, black leather chair, and Lattimore’s pale eyes flashed briefly then grew cold. 

“Not with how you, yet again, defied such impossible odds,” Lattimore continued. “However, at least this time, everyone knows you had help.”

Rhys leaned back in the chair and pulled the device closer to himself in the process. “It’s easy to come up with conspiracy theories if you only look at the evidence supporting your idea,” he said drolly.

Lattimore sneered slightly. “There’s no question about it now.”

“Why? Because I visited the wreckage where I once lived?”

“Looking for knickknacks and pictures of your poor deceased mother who took a bullet for you? How sentimental.” 

Rhys struggled not to flinch at the dig. He stared steadily at the screen. “I can understand your paranoia surrounding the matter after you all did everything possible to dismiss the magnitude of his influence as irrelevant.”

“Handsome Jack’s passing was a loss for us all,” Lattimore replied, sounding pleasantly sarcastic. “But we could not solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them. You would do well to remember that.”

Rhys straightened and snorted faintly because he saw no reason to subject himself to this bullshit any longer. “Then I believe I’ll solve my biggest problem right now by setting the record straight. I allowed you to suspect I had him to keep you out of my way, but you are delusional if you actually believe Handsome Jack would have ever helped me resurrect Atlas.” 

“How dare you? How—”

“Anyway, I did so enjoy hearing this assessment of my own worth from the guy who is barely maintaining his place among the Supreme Eight. It really does put everything into perspective. But this conversation is over because, like your predecessor, I am aware that corporations don’t just run themselves, and this is clearly a waste of my time.” 

On that cue, Patrick cut the feed, and the lighting reverted back to its previous state simultaneously. Rhys looked down and gave a resigned sigh. He felt tired and righteously enraged.

“Rhys?”

“I’m fine. I just should have seen that coming is all. I set myself up for it.” His voice faded for a moment, then Rhys collected himself.

“We obviously have work to do, but it’ll have to wait until the morning because inconveniencing Lattimore meant also inconveniencing myself, and I’m starving.” He allowed a bitter smirk for a moment. “So, if you could have something sent up, I don’t even care what, and notify Lorelei that the official test fire needs to occur by the end of next week, I’d appreciate it.” 

“He can’t touch you,” Patrick said, studying him speculatively. “It is not a risk he can take.” 

“Right, and I want him to remember that.”

“I will be sure to stage it around the markets.”

“Efficient, as always,” Rhys said in approval, and Patrick squeezed his shoulder reassuringly on the way by. 

When the door was finally closed, and Rhys was on his own once more with Jack, he looked up at him. The dimness of the room made his hologram all the richer, so Jack nearly glowed, drawing Rhys’ attention more sharply. He was close, unnecessarily close, leaning back against the table, arms folded and glowering, but he was being surprisingly quiet, for Jack. 

“Well?” Rhys clipped, unwilling to further burden himself by waiting for what he regarded as the inevitable. 

Jack stared him hard in the eye for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched, and he glanced away. “I don’t— blame you for what happened. Well, I mean I definitely do because let’s be real, it was  _ entirely _ your fault.”

He gave Rhys a condescending smile.

“But I admit, I can’t be mad at you about it. Lattimore, on the other hand,” Jack said, his face twisting with fury. “I’m going to enjoy killing him for even thinking about touching what’s mine.”

Rhys still was not sure if what he was doing was worth the risk. Not with how Jack had no loyalty to anyone but himself. But the response, however unexpected, was enough to reinforce Rhys’ inability to regret it. Even as he stared down the all too familiar bloodlust in Jack’s gaze.

_______________________________________________________________________________

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, watching Rhys carefully. 

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to broach it.” Rhys resumed the process of inserting the device into the sphere, fingers delicately twisting and prying until it was almost in position. “However, since you’ve been in such a piss poor mood lately, I—“

“You haven’t been much better there, sunshine.” 

“Can you blame me?” Rhys asked in lieu of a proper reply. 

“No. I’ve strangled people to death for a lot less.”

Rhys sighed. He knew how to fall, knew how to hit the ground and get up quickly, but this was the first time he had ever wanted to retaliate for it. The urge was not driven by the fact that Lattimore was unable to do anything about it. Because if it came to it, Rhys not only had the experience now but plenty of people, i.e., ammunition, left to fight another war. He would do it again. He would let their deaths once more fail to mean anything or do more than produce a new list of casualties for Rhys to memorialize. Just so he could put another deranged executive in his place.

It was a fault Rhys hated acknowledging. 

“Anyway, I know being stuck up here all the time isn’t helping anything, and since Katagawa was stupid enough to bring proprietary tech to my doorstep, I’ve been using aspects of it for personal use as I see fit.” 

The cube slotted into place with a faint  _ click.  _ An aura of blue energy rippled around him. Then, as if a cable had detached, the little sphere catapulted up to hover a foot or so above Rhys’ left shoulder.

Rhys smirked ruefully. “It’s calibrated to my biosignature, but the shield is nearly indestructible, so you won’t have to worry about taking a—“

“Kitten, you had me at ‘let’s go watch shit blow up.’” Jack moved toward him. “You really do know how to sweet talk a guy.” 

“It’s all for you.” 

“Isn’t everything?” 

Rhys rolled his eyes. 

The ride to Skywell-27 was quiet, presumably because of the whole ‘no talking to thin air’ thing, but not strained like it had been since the call with Lattimore. Rhys felt as if the worst inside himself had been sanded back thanks to the relative ease of their earlier conversation. Which, how was that even possible? Being around Jack sometimes made Rhys abrasive, certainly more tense, never… normal. 

Upon arrival, Rhys lost track of Jack for a bit. Lorelei wanted to talk to him. Then Patrick had convinced Rhys to allow a photojournalist to attend, so there was the necessary introduction and short interview to give before things could get underway.

About thirty minutes later, Rhys finally took his place on deck. 

The ship hanging silently in the distance was dark. Anyone that may have survived the initial assault had died, and the emergency systems had since timed-out. 

Lorelei looked up at him from her place down in the command center, and Rhys nodded curtly. 

“We are ready to rock,” she shouted. 

There was a faint buzzing of energy, which was quickly lost under a pressure change as the overhead lights dimmed then went dark. The intervening second seemed to last for hours, and then suddenly, the room was bathed in blinding violet light; the reverberating  _ boom _ was felt as much as heard. 

Rhys blinked to find empty space where there had been a Maliwan dreadnaught two seconds prior. 

His heart rate slowed slightly. 

He took a deep breath and let it out silently. Something relaxed inside of himself in the process, and Rhys felt almost at ease again. Just for a moment. Because the hum of the sphere was barely audible, but it was a reminder nonetheless. 

Rhys looked over his shoulder in search and unexpectedly met Jack’s gaze. He was several feet away, his eyes were hooded, and he was staring over at him intently. Rhys wondered what Jack was thinking. What that expression meant, exactly, because the mystery around it always put Rhys on edge. 

It dragged his mind toward Jack. Caused him to obsess as he tried to comprehend what appeared to be a pile of contradictions. Rhys knew Jack was manipulative, cruel, and dangerous. But he was also tragic and terrifyingly human. 

Eventually, Jack smirked faintly, and despite himself, Rhys smiled back.


	7. Coeus

The ship made a swift, easy descent. For a moment, it hovered above the landing pad, kicking up a thin layer of white-gold dust before touching down. Once the thrum of the drive core and the mechanical sounds emanating from the ship ceased, anxiety overtook Rhys. It rushed through his veins like a tidal wave. 

He could practically  _ hear _ it.

Then the door opened, and the stairs slid into place. Vaughn abruptly appeared, looking a lot more put together than he had when Rhys saw him last. He was wearing combat boots, pants, and a black hex-patterned jacket over a white shirt. Both were open, ensuring Vaughn’s freakish abs were on full display. As he exited the ship’s interior and descended, his dark blue scarf got caught in an updraft. 

Really, the whole scene looked badass as hell. 

A second later, Vaughn’s eyes lit on Rhys, and he grinned broadly. It seemed that was all Rhys needed because he calmed. Just enough for a small, tentative smile to creep onto his face as he started forward to meet Vaughn halfway. 

“A handshake?” Vaughn took Rhys’ proffered hand and dragged him in for a hug with a hearty clap on the back. Rhys tensed for a moment before relaxing into it. 

“Long distance bros hug it out.”

“Force of habit,” he apologized, squeezing Vaughn’s shoulder as he pulled away. Excessive physical contact inherently made Rhys uncomfortable. It took effort to let people get close to him, and it made him unhappy to have something so visceral highlight the issue at hand. 

There was a time where he would have gladly ‘hugged it out’ with Vaughn, but that had been the old Rhys and the old Vaughn. The childhood bros that shared an apartment and a dream. And this Vaughn continuing on as if nothing had changed made it incredibly difficult for Rhys to sort out his feelings regarding their friendship or, more accurately, the lack thereof. 

It hadn’t seemed urgent, at least, not until recently, and calling Vaughn to arrange this visit had filled him with a panicked sense of despair. To him, it felt like they were being held together by dangerously loose stitches. He did not know how to fix it. Or, if it was even possible to do so at this point. On Pandora, Rhys had tried to apologize for permitting them to drift apart, but it had been summarily dismissed as unnecessary. 

There should have been resistance. There should have been shades of anger or resentment.

Not forgiveness. 

There existed a finite amount of time in which to come to terms with all of this. Who knew if it would even matter in the end, but it felt imperative that Rhys try.

“When you said you were going to send a ship, I didn’t think you meant your ship. I barely felt the jump into hyperdrive,” Vaughn said. “And man, those light trails. Beautiful ship. What’s her name?”

“Coeus,” Rhys answered, taking a moment to appreciate her. Deep charcoal with Atlas etched into the port side in barely discernible pearlescent black. Fortunately, the war had been about acquiring Atlas, not destroying it, so most of his assets, including Atlas’ deep space fleet, were left intact. 

“Perfect. What an absolutely perfect name.”

That brought a genuine smile out of Rhys. The drive core and stealth tech put into her had been revolutionary. In his opinion, the ship was indeed an embodiment of the celestial axis around which the heavens revolved.

He turned to head back toward the vehicle awaiting them. “Thanks. I thought so too.” 

“So, this is Promethea, huh? Is it sun up or down?”

Rhys gave Vaughn a sidelong look. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Okay. Fine. It’s almost sunset at 3PM on a Thursday because a full cycle here is approximately 28.5 hours. This means standardized time is worth about jackshit, just like everywhere else in the universe. But if you factor in the massive planetwide shadows cast from Skywell, it doesn’t really matter. Promethea wasn’t dubbed a twilight world for nothing, am I right? And its inhabitants have certainly embraced that with the whole ‘planet that never sleeps’ vibe, but I’m a tourist, Rhys! You’re like— the king of this place. Aren’t you supposed to be trying to wow the pants off of me?”

“If that’s what happened to you on Pandora, I intend to make this visit as underwhelming as possible.”

“Pfffahahaha! Solid burn aside, that’s totally hopeless. I mean, look at this place, bro!” Vaughn threw his arm out, but mercifully, kept his pants on.

Looming up over the military base like a giant leviathan was Atlas Telamon, the central pillar of HQ, and beyond was its six subsequent towers. The smallest pairing still grossly overshadowed Meridian’s skyscrapers, a solid mass of concrete and colored lights rising above the city’s walls on the horizon.

“You can’t tell from here, but reconstruction is still ongoing,” Rhys demurred. 

“Sometimes, I don’t know if he’s just obnoxiously humble or stupid,” Lorelei put in from where she was leaning against the vehicle.

“Definitely stupid,” Vaughn said, and Zer0’s faceplate flashed a **LOL**. 

“We all know that’s not true,” Patrick defended. “It is simply a misplaced sense of personal responsibility that makes him seem so on occasion.”

Rhys swiveled toward his PA in annoyance. “I expect you, of all people, to be on my side when shit like this happens. Not jump in.“

“New bro—”

“Patrick,” he corrected crisply.

Vaughn shot him a finger-gun. “New bro, Patrick, the badass PA, brings up a good point.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said, adjusting his glasses as if preening a bit. “And I am always on your side, Rhys. It’s—“

Lorelei flung an arm out and whacked Patrick on the shoulder. Frowning, he shifted his weight slightly away from her. 

_ “We _ are always on your side,” she corrected. “And we only make fun of you because we love you.” 

Zer0 contributed a red holographic heart to the conversation as if to really drive the point home. 

Patrick rolled his eyes up. “As I was saying, it hasn’t even been five months since the war officially ended here. Of course, the hardest hit areas are still going to be recovering.”

“Not to mention, outside of that Maliwan _asshole_ punching several craters into the city, it was a war battled out on the streets,” Lorelei said. “Patrick and I grew up here. You can’t make us swallow your ‘waah damage to the infrastructure was catastrophic’ when it’s fucking superficial at most. It didn’t even exist before you put it there anyway.”

The impersonation Lorelei did of Rhys during this rant was vaguely insulting, but embarrassment and pride and concern outweighed it. 

Currently, concern had the upper hand. 

None of it was a fabrication given for his benefit, and it was honestly something Rhys had thought himself. However, he felt concerned because Vaughn’s presence alone seemed to emphasize not only the heights to which Rhys had vaulted himself but the associated costs. Placed strain on those delicate threads. Then Lorelei cast it all into sharper relief.

Vaughn lived on Pandora, never sure what the next day would bring, only taking lives when absolutely necessary, but he lived fully. Rhys’ path was razor straight. It led right to the top. Collateral damage be damned. 

But then what?

“Point taken,” Rhys replied. Then he smiled and opened the car door. “I figured we’d start with the memorial, which is over by Tourism. Get that out of the way first. Then we can grab an early dinner somewhere?”

“Sounds perfect, bro.” 

“No-ope,” Lorelei said, grabbing Patrick by the shoulder. “You get to ride with us, Mr. I-refuse-to-ask-nicely.” 

Vaughn leaned back around the door. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” said Rhys and Patrick in tandem, which prompted Zer0 to flash another **LOL**.

Vaughn hesitated, looking between Patrick, who had already walked away, clearly pissed off, and Rhys, who just sighed faintly. Then he shrugged and climbed into Rhys’ very practical looking, yet well shielded SUV. 

They got situated in the back, and the vehicle took off at once. The driver checked the rearview mirror carefully to ensure they were both buckled in before raising the privacy glass. Then there was the distinct shift of the vehicle increasing in speed.

After spending several minutes asking standard touristy questions and trying to look  _ up _ out of the window as they drove past Atlas Telamon, Vaughn settled back in the seat. “Sooooo, I have to admit that when I saw the memorial dedication a few weeks ago, I thought you were reneging on having me come out here.”

Rhys blanched. He hadn’t expected that. He was not even sure how to respond in the face of it, so all he managed was a very eloquent: “I, uh— What?”

“I mean, I understood, and I’m ecstatic to have been proved wrong. But you know.” 

“I really don’t, and if you still think the delay was personal, you couldn’t be more mistaken. I just wanted things to settle before I invited you.” 

“What things?”

“Foot traffic around the memorial for one. I feel like visiting it outside of an official capacity is personal, and I’d rather not have more of an audience than necessary.” Rhys hated himself for how stilted he sounded. In light of his past behavior, Vaughn’s assumption had been more than justifiable. “Then, there was all that publicity with Skywell-27 and the corresponding feature about me in  _ The Enterprise.” _

“Which was totally awesome! I will make you sign one of those magazines for me before I leave.” 

Rhys smirked at the enthusiasm, or more specifically at his blatant attempt to diffuse the tension between them. “Yeah, dude, no problem.”

“So, what’s the kicker?” Vaughn inquired after a beat. “It’s pretty obvious that there is one.” 

Rhys idly fingered his tie as he searched for an easy way to explain. “Do you remember how after I got my Vault, I downloaded all the data from Helios’ servers and then wiped them?” he asked eventually. 

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t know that Hyperion had left everything behind until then, and given the animosity between them and me, I didn’t fully trust their ‘new era’ spin. So, I took it. I took it to keep you safe from that,” Rhys told him soberly. 

Vaughn swallowed, then gave a slow nod. 

Rhys cleared his throat. “My suspicions weren’t completely unfounded, because Hyperion knew the second I did it. But it turned out they were simply looking for ironclad proof that I had help. That I had Handsome Jack helping me revive Atlas.” 

“They think you have—  _ Handsome Jack— _ helping you? Succeed?”

Rhys almost laughed at Vaughn’s sudden look of absolute confusion. “Yeah, but until recently, I never really discouraged it. It kept them away when Atlas was unable to defend itself. Well,  _ mostly _ away. There haven’t been many assassination attempts over the years. Only like six or so not counting Katagawa. But allowing Hyperion to operate under that assumption, they’d be the only ones who would directly benefit from taking me out, so…”

“Shit, dude. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing I’m not used to by now, but after what happened to my mom—“ Rhys cut off, glancing away from Vaughn. His jaw rolled slightly. “Skywell was a show of force after we had a very private falling out, and I didn’t want to put you at risk.” 

When Rhys looked back, he found Vaughn staring at him. His expression was sad and resigned.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know.”

“How could you? We kept the previous attempts on my life out of the news cycle so it wouldn’t negatively affect our stock, and everything else?” Rhys half-shrugged to himself. “It’s not like I ever called to talk about any of it. Not that I would have, even if I did.” 

“You know,” Vaughn began pensively. “If you ever get sick of the CEO life, you’ll always have a place in my clan.” 

Rhys blinked because feeling anything like amusement, genuine amusement, amid the conversation they had been having was jarring. “I think I’ll take my chances with the assassins,” he replied, somewhat plaintive. 

In response, Vaughn laughed so hard Rhys thought there might be actual tears forming in his eyes, and he chuckled along reflexively.

“I guess we all really do have our place in the universe.”

“Apparently,” Rhys said. 

“Geez. This discussion really sucked there for a bit, didn’t it?” Vaughn’s expression hadn’t changed, exactly. But it did look slightly frozen now. “I promise that’s not what I intended. I just—“

“It’s okay. It needed to happen,” Rhys chanced, sensing that Vaughn had felt the same disconnect between them. That they had only ignored it, each in their own way, until one of them finally couldn’t anymore. 

Vaughn nodded, relaxed a little. “Bro knee?”

“Bro knee,” Rhys agreed. 

Vaughn’s smile became a grin again, and they bumped knees. For the first time in too long, the guilt over their fractured friendship simply vanished. One moment there, the next gone. Rhys felt almost resolute about it. Things would never be the same between them, but it didn’t have to. 

They weren’t the same. 

Then like on Pandora, their conversation moved on, Rhys doing his ‘kingly duties’ and outlining the operations of each building in depth. Including the really dry statistics Hyperion Lackey Vaughn would have thoroughly enjoyed. It helped him suppress his increasing discomfort. Funneled the physical symptoms of his stress into something productive. 

His body practically thrummed with that lingering sense of responsibility. The knowledge that he cared, but not enough to do anything different moving forward. Not even in the face of the tens of thousands of names inscribed into the massive obsidian walls arranged in broken concentric circles of varying height and width with room to grow. 

“Damn, Rhys,” Vaughn muttered. 

Rhys nodded in agreement. There was a certain grandness in its simplicity. The air around it always felt heavy and imposing, but maybe that was only because every life he sacrificed weighed on him. 

“Your pants are still on,” Rhys reminded him. 

“Bro, I would never disrespect your mother like that.”

Rhys snorted and activated one of the interfaces ringing the memorial. 

“You don’t know where she is?” Vaughn asked curiously. 

“No. No one does unless you spend the time looking or use one of these, and I haven’t been out here outside of the dedication.” Rhys pressed enter, and a pulsing red beam of light appeared somewhere off to the left. 

“Just because she was my mother didn’t make her more important than the thousands of other mothers who also lost their lives,” he added quietly, then quickly typed in  _ Cap. Amelia Fernsby. _

“It wasn’t your fault,” Patrick said as the silver beam of light representing his mother went up directly in front of them. 

“None of it was,” Lorelei added, her voice softer and gentler than Rhys was used to hearing.

But in the secret, quiet place of his heart, Rhys knew that was a lie.

_______________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the week went much better than Rhys could have hoped for. Lorelei and Patrick even seemed to be getting along, and though that may have been for Vaughn’s benefit, it was a nice change of pace. With any luck, their interactions would permanently improve. Especially since Patrick had finally snarked back on several occasions, and Lorelei would respect that. 

Part of Rhys knew it had all been staged that way for his benefit. His crew had an odd sixth sense about the state of his mental health, and the fluctuations in his workload had not gone unnoticed. It was annoying given his proclivities, but the incessant loops his mind had been making as of late were exhausting. The inescapable downtime had been beneficial, and he would be able to throw himself back into it with a clearer head soon enough. 

But maybe after, like, one more day, because being the last night before Vaughn’s return to Pandora meant that Rhys was drunk. He was not very drunk, but he was unused to drinking at this point in his life. It was such a terrible idea. Verbal filter loss. Slowed reflexes. 

Also, poor decision-making capabilities as he was now standing in his office with one (1) very pissed off Handsome Jack. 

Terrible idea. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were out with your little  _ friends.”  _

Jack had been like this for the past several days, and if Rhys didn’t know better, he would label it as jealousy. Or, some other equally laughable yet totally normal human emotion that Jack had surely closed off. But the truth of the matter was Jack got bored easily. Apart from whatever ideas and plans he privately worked on, Rhys was Jack’s only other vein of entertainment, and he had been largely unavailable. 

“I was,” Rhys said. “But now I’m here.”

Jack scoffed. “Why?” he asked, keeping his attention obstinately fixated on the holo-screen before him.

Rhys shrugged. His shoulders felt unusually heavy. Was he slouching? Frowning, Rhys straightened his spine, then decided he really wanted to sit down. So, he did, snorting faintly as he ungracefully plopped down onto the floor. 

Long legs splayed out in front of him, Rhys began to dig around in his jacket pockets, removing all the random crap he had acquired throughout the evening. This included: four (4) metallic markers, one (1) copy of _ The Enterprise, _ two (2) crumpled receipts, one (1) gently used napkin with a grenade mod idea scribbled onto it, and one (1) misshapen fried cheese stick. Rhys dropped that onto the floor with a small sound of dismay. He had forgotten that Vaughn had stuffed it into his pocket ‘for later.’

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Rhys looked up sharply and found Jack staring down at him. Caught off guard by the full attention Jack was suddenly leveling him with, his heart stuttered slightly. 

“Sitting?”

“I see that,” Jack retorted, giving Rhys a pointed look. “But you could have done that, y’know, in a chair like a normal person, and did you just pull a fucking cheese stick out of your jacket?”

“I want to say no, but I can’t since it’s right there.” Rhys waved his arm accusingly at what sort of looked like a little dog turd. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I’m sitting on the floor with a cheese stick entirely sober.” 

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered. Then his jaw clenched slightly as he turned his face away to look out the window.

“Rhys, you should go home,” he finally said. 

“Funny story.” Rhys folded his legs and retrieved the magazine and markers. “Atlas Telamon is officially 250 stories tall. Unofficially, it is 251. I live upstairs.” 

“What did you just say?” Jack asked after a moment. 

“I live upstairs. I just take the long way every day so you wouldn’t know. But now you do, so I guess I can stop doing that.” 

Jack chuckled lowly but didn’t further respond.

“I mean, I do have an apartment in Meridian, but it’s basically just for show. The drive from here to the gates alone is fifteen minutes. The rail system is faster, but I’m the CEO? Anyway, then, on a good day, it’s another twenty minutes to my building, which, like, fuck that. I have better things to do with my time than sit in traffic. Most of the employees live here as it is. One of the towers closest to the city is solely for housing. Plus, this is the tallest building on the planet. Why wouldn’t I want to live here?”

“Because this place sucks?”

“I’m sure you’ll really enjoy being back on Eos,” Rhys said, and his mouth quirked up at one corner. “I heard Lattimore shares your affinity for giant statues.” 

“Son… ofabitch,” Jack breathed. 

Rhys flipped the page again. “Just his pretentious ugly ass face  _ everywhere.  _ You’ve really got your work cut out for you.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I had to get that shitpile on track. How long do you think it’ll take me?”

“Two to three months, depending on how you decide to approach it.” Rhys looked up at Jack, meeting his gaze. “Lattimore doesn’t have the assets that Tassiter did.” 

Post-Helios, it had made sense for Hyperion to dial back operations to their core foundation: weapons. However, without pushing boundaries or entering back into other markets once things had stabilized, further growth quickly went stagnant. 

“If you were me, what would you do?” Jack was leaning against the desk, staring at him intently as he asked. 

“All those breakthroughs you made with Eridium, they were incredible. The technology behind E-Tech is still proprietary. I tried to reverse engineer it myself, but I couldn’t. So, go back to that. Go back to the rockstar corporate genius image you had in the beginning. The guy who flashed a smile and made money. Not the one that tried to sell wholesale murder with a side of blatant disregard for human life.” 

Jack kept looking down at him for another moment, before smirking faintly. “What are you doing there, cupcake?” he asked quietly. 

“I’m making you something. I had the idea at dinner, where I nursed two of my four drinks and ate a lot of delicious sushi,” Rhys told him. Then he set the markers aside to show Jack. He proudly held up the magazine, showcasing a few of the cartoon mustaches Rhys was doodling on each photograph of himself in the 10-page feature article.

“I’m going to sign it when I’m finished,” Rhys told him and smiled when Jack broke into the most genuine laugh he had heard from the man in a while.

“Oh, kitten,” Jack mused, as though he were savoring the words. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sure we’ll both learn the answer to that whenever you decide,” Rhys replied indifferently. Then went back to drawing an elaborate, golden mustache on one of the larger black-and-white photos. 

After a minute, it became clear Jack was not going to respond, so Rhys, overwhelmed with his desire to fill the silence, asked: “What are you like drunk?” 

“Quieter. And angrier.”

“Of course, I should have guessed.”

“To be honest, I had you down as a weepy drunk, not this delightful can of sass.”

“Non-functioning tear ducts, remember? And my care factor just drops to an all-time low when I’ve been drinking. Like a, two,” he said, closing the magazine to sign the cover, which was Rhys’ silhouette backlit by the violet light of Skywell-27’s test-fire. Center-left, beneath the small yet distinguishable Maliwan sphere replica, it read: _ ENDURING ATLAS. After corporate war, CEO Rhys Strongfork remains the titan of endurance and strength. _

After signing the cover with a flourish, Rhys recapped the marker and looked up at Jack. “But I am sorry about this last week. You’re just… distracting and not always in a good way.”

“You’re right.” Jack flashed a lazy grin. “I’m distracting in the best way.” 

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Anyway, as much fun as I’m having sitting on the floor—”

“Your fault.”

“Noted,” Rhys said primly, and Jack snorted. “But I’m thirsty and sort of hungry—

“Eat the cheese stick.”

“Shut up,” Rhys said, then draped his coat over his arm and peeled himself up off the floor. “I’m going to ‘go home.’ If you want, you can come along and make fun of my apartment or whatever while I take care of the food thing.”

Jack eyed him curiously. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t hate you, Jack. I’m not trying to make your time like this miserable,” he said with a faint grimace. “I’ve been trying to do better, this last week was just—”

“Save it, cupcake. Letting me make fun of where you live to your face is the perfect way—“ Jack started. Then paused when Rhys unceremoniously tossed the magazine onto Jack’s desk so he could retrieve his napkin. 

Rhys straightened and found Jack staring at him blankly. “Sorry, grenade idea,” he explained, running the fingertips of his free hand back through his hair sheepishly. “Continue.” 

“It’d be the perfect way to make me forget I wanted to choke you out. Not kill you, just like gently remind you what’s important. You know, like last time.” 

“Riiiiiight,” Rhys said, grabbing the device but leaving the cheese stick and receipts. The janitorial bots would get those. “Way to undersell how traumatic that ended up being for both of us.” 

“Pffft. I’m over it. You’re over it. We’re over it. Let’s go get you some food, kitten, before you do that vanishing thing.” 

Jack had  _ a lot  _ to say about Rhys’ penthouse apartment, which was impressive since the open floor plan had clean, straight lines, and was decorated in white, grey, and dark hardwoods. But Jack would never admit he liked anything he didn’t design or create. So, Rhys antagonized Jack in turn by cooking himself a full-fledged breakfast at 3AM. 

It felt good to laugh with Jack. It felt good to forget that Rhys carried around the weight of the world on any given day. And the following morning, when he woke up on the sofa with a crick in his neck and began the process of resocketing his arm, it felt good to hear Jack let out a deep chuckle that crept up Rhys’ spine. 

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unnecessary rambles:  
> Given the BL writers' use of Greek mythology, I stuck with it in naming things in chapter.
> 
> ♦︎ Instead of being confined to Tartarus like almost everyone else after the Titanomachy, Atlas (the Titan of Endurance, Strength, and Astronomy) was condemned to stand at the western edge of Gaia & hold up the celestial heavens for eternity. Thus, he was _Atlas Telamon,_ meaning “enduring Atlas” & became a doublet of another titan, Coeus (the embodiment of the celestial axis around which the heavens revolve, who was also the Titan God of the North, and the Titan of Resolve and Intelligence).
> 
> ♦︎ Hyperion is the Titan of Watchfulness, Wisdom and the Light, & Helios (the Sun) & Eos (the Dawn), where I stuck HQ for this fic, are Hyperion's children.


	8. The Point of Utter Improbability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs that helped me work through this chapter ♥️: [Raise My Flag](https://open.spotify.com/track/7JwArzBdZrNstIErfGtHg4?si=So0Wsyh2R-OiNUECdvX8Mw) (ill Factor), [Tightrope](https://open.spotify.com/track/0BRK99SmPJZIvJoYqCSMNc?si=L6zQ7mYWTbGl0RtVD0A-PQ) (The Score), & [Redemption](https://open.spotify.com/track/3DJPG8UCwJMpmtOLh8Wu23?si=ARKs06uQSI2LECVV-p0saw) (Zayde Wolf).

The three-month mark came and went as if it were any other day. A silent reminder for each of them that everything was about to change. When Rhys walked into their shared office that morning, he didn’t speak. Neither did Jack. They simply looked at each other and felt the weight of it. 

The following Tuesday, they went down to Raesler’s lab for the bi-monthly progress check. It was the first time Rhys had taken Jack along since the embryos had been moved into the pods. With what could be the single greatest scientific achievement of her career drawing ever closer, Raesler was almost animated as she outlined the progress of each body. Then, she discussed the transfer process in depth. Rhys, both interested and aware that there was no margin for error, paid close attention, and when the urge struck, asked questions for clarification or assurance.

Jack seemed more concerned about the talking ratch in lab coats. 

Afterward, he was strangely calm. Rhys was not. He felt on the verge of a breakdown. He was living two lives side by side, and they were going to collide. The gravity of this self-inflicted clusterfuck had not fully registered until that moment. 

Rhys took a deep, even breath and let it out. Then set about reasoning his way through it.

Jack would never permit anyone to believe his resurrection was anything other than an unassisted miracle. Which was ideal for Rhys’ and Atlas’ future. Echoing this line of rationale for herself, Raesler had requested the entire venture be so highly classified no one would ever know of their involvement. The lingering complication of that resided with Vaughn and Rhys’ Inner Circle, who all knew the full extent of what had happened to him on Pandora.

They would immediately recognize his role in Jack’s return for what it was, and Rhys did not want to lose a fraction of what he had left. Especially after gaining by reconnecting with Vaughn like he had. These individuals kept Rhys rooted to the world, prevented him from waking up everyday feeling like he was starting over. Even if they were also a constant reminder of what could have been and what was not. 

Neither Patrick nor Lorelei had been adversely affected by Jack. He had been a distant problem in a distant galactic sector. Promethea had hit rock bottom due to Atlas’ collapse long before Jack further crippled the company. That alone should neutralize the potential fallout there, and Vaughn, well, given his track record, Rhys suspected he would stand by him through anything.

Still, they would be pissed. Rightfully so too. Rhys had lied to them. And yet, he was not sure he would need to explain himself. They had noticed the shift in the ways his mind tilted after the war, Vaughn included, and would be intuitive enough to know why he would do such a thing. Plus, at that point, what could be done? 

It’d be finished. 

Jack would be gone. 

This approach, however, completely fell apart when Zer0 was factored into the equation. For him, a target was a target. There was no arbitrary line someone had to cross to earn their death. Jack’s crimes, as sickening as some were, did not elevate him above the rest. And the notion that any of them might go back and do things differently given the opportunity did not matter. This was not because Zer0 lacked compassion or understanding, he just did not let it cloud his judgment. Which Rhys respected. It was ultimately why he had put Zer0 in charge of security.

Which meant, Rhys had no hope of making the necessary system changes to lock down Jack post-transfer without being discovered. Then, everything would go to hell in a very special way. Someone would definitely die. Probably Jack. _ Again. _ Because with Zer0, there were no second chances, only choices, and Jack had made his long ago. 

But if there was no room for redemption or closure, where did that leave Rhys? 

“Hey, kitten.”

He turned toward the sound of Jack’s voice so quickly it was almost embarrassing. But Rhys was too surprised by his tone to really register it. Rhys couldn’t quite place it, but there was something in it, like maybe, concern? 

“You still with me?” Jack asked.

“I am.” 

Jack surveyed him carefully for several more seconds before one corner of his mouth slowly curled up. “Did one of them touch you, and I missed it?”

“No,” Rhys replied. “Not today.” 

“Too bad. I was looking forward to watching you have another meltdown over it. I learn stuff,  _ and  _ it’s super funny.”

Rhys couldn’t help but smile, and his eyes dropped to his shoes. He doubted it was ever sincerely done, but Jack pulled him out of his own head more often than Rhys cared to acknowledge. It was only when he was alone that his mind rebelled against relaxing into the attention, knowing it was both dangerous and foolish. But in the moment, when Jack was staring at him with an intensity that made Rhys feel like the only thing that existed in the universe, it was impossible to not give in.

Rhys looked up at Jack again. “Maybe next time.”

“Hopefully, there won’t be a ‘next time.’”

“That would be nice.”

The dim, ambient light of the elevator eased as it rose into the empty stretch of Atlas Telamon. It was not sunlight, not in the sense that one would describe it. It was a sad, dying sort of light; dusky and wavering. Wispy clouds hung in the sky, a blazing orange and red quickly giving way to a deep navy as one of the larger asteroids of Skywell drifted in front of the sun.

Atlas’ towers were already glittering in preparation, and beyond, the great city of Meridian burned brighter than the stars in the heavens.

A month. Rhys had a month. A month, at most, to find a way to get himself and Jack through this.

“I need to get rid of Zer0 before then,” Rhys told him. 

“Wow. I’m touched,” Jack said, his smirk openly smug. “The things you’ll do for the people you care about, huh?”

Rhys huffed a single laugh. “Something like that.”

“So, how are you going to do it? Stage a workplace accident or just, like, surprise! Here’s a bullet!”

“I’m going to suggest he take a vacation,” Rhys said dryly. 

Jack flicked his wrist. “Weak. Just disappointment all around from you today.”

Rhys felt as though he should have some sort of reaction to the words given the risks he was taking; offense or anger or— something. But he felt nothing. It was precisely what he had anticipated out of Jack. Rhys could be perfect. He could meet Jack’s every expectation perfectly, and it would never matter because he did not matter. The worst part of it was, Rhys accepted that. 

“Well,” he began. “I’m sure that’s nothing new.” 

The elevator grew dark again before it slowed to deposit them onto their floor. 

“Rhys.”

He came to a grinding halt in the middle of the entry lobby and turned back. Jack used his name so rarely Rhys could not help but redirect his focus when he heard it. But Rhys was only met with another moment of Jack searching his face before he glanced away. 

“What?” he prompted. 

“How do you see this playing out between us?”

The question was entirely unexpected. Rhys blinked and wondered what spurred it. 

“Ideally, the whole ‘we are in it together’ thing sticks, and you cooperate with keeping this hidden,” he said. “I doubt you want me associated with your return anyway, so it’s a win-win for both of us. I’ll still do what I can to help you reclaim Hyperion. At least, if that’s what you want out of me, but—”

“And if I want something else?”

Rhys quirked an eyebrow. “What else could you possibly want— from me?” 

His expression hardened, and his mouth twitched as though Jack were hesitating, but after a minute, the answer became clear. 

Nothing. 

Rhys nodded resignedly. “Realistically, there are so many ways it can go wrong.”

“You’re thinking you’ll have to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I won’t lose anything else, not willingly, so if you make me choose, I’ll choose.” 

Jack let out a chuckle. 

“You don’t think I’d do it?”

“Oh, I know you would,” Jack replied quietly, then he took several steps closer. His expression was an odd combination of intent and amused. “But, you’d never forgive yourself.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Rhys admitted. “But it wouldn’t be the first unforgivable thing I’ve done.”

“What would you do then?”

Rhys turned his head aside. In the museum-grade aquarium, a big fish ate a little fish, but the rest did not seem to mind. He knew he could do anything to succeed. That there were no limits to what he would be willing to do. And that he could bear the consequences until the end. 

“The same thing I do every day,” he said before meeting Jack’s unwavering gaze yet again. 

He stood unmoving for a beat longer, and then leaned in close to murmur in Rhys’ ear. “I hope you realize none of this conversation matters, because if you think you can get rid of me that easily, you’re in for a big surprise, sweetheart.” 

The deep rumble of Jack’s voice made him rue the day he programmed himself to process it like any other. But Rhys had been waiting for Jack to begin openly manipulating him like this. He’d been ramping up to it for weeks now. 

Rhys stepped back enough to look at Jack. “If I had wanted to get rid of you easily, I would have done it by now, and yet, here we are.”

Jack smiled wolfishly. “So true. Good thing too, since I’ve decided I’m nowhere  _ near _ done with you.”

His skin prickled as Rhys felt a huge, unnerving pull toward the man. He wanted it— he  _ wanted  _ to mean something to Jack. Then there was a dropping sensation in his stomach because he didn’t know if he did this to himself or if Jack’s methods had been working this entire time. So subtle Rhys didn’t feel it happening. 

He smirked faintly but did not allow himself to further react. Whether Jack believed his feigned indifference was not important, it was for Rhys’ benefit alone. A way to regain some semblance of control in a situation where the odds were continuously pushed higher and steeper. 

“I’m not sure if I should be relieved or concerned.” 

Jack winked. “That’s allllll part of the fun,” he said. “But walk with me, cupcake, we’ve both got shit to do that doesn’t include standing around watching fish swim in circles.”

Then without further ado, Jack began to stride down the hallway purposefully. Rhys followed after him. It agitated Jack when he reached the limit of his range, and getting back to work was preferable to risking another round of whatever the fuck just happened. Rhys had enough to deal with, and this was already  _ one more thing.  _

With any luck, Rhys was not the only one compromised, and he had, in fact, shifted himself in Jack’s estimation. Manipulated his way into occupying that void Jack pretended didn’t exist after all. Which seemed like a death sentence in of itself, but also a potential recourse. 

A way forward for them both that did not amount to Rhys pushing himself to the point of utter improbability.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Rhys set the large, thin case onto the table. The metal was reinforced, built to withstand an explosion. To expedite things, he swiped his wristband in front of the small screen instead of entering the 10-digit alphanumeric code.

The case beeped, then unlocked with a faint whir. Rhys opened it. Nestled in foam to safeguard it from shock was a top of the line, semi-automatic sniper rifle. 

It was not a heavy gun, but solid. A dark grey with black pearlescent concentric circles etched into it that gleamed even in the twilight. The vents in the upper handrail glowed softly yellow, an indicator of the added radioactive damage. And lastly, on the side of the receiver,  _ Atlas _ was inlaid into the metal in blood red, almost black.

Rhys stepped aside.

Zer0 merely stood there with his arms folded until he realized everyone was looking at him expectantly. A red question mark popped up, and Lorelei snorted. 

“It’s the first frickin’ sniper he’s ever allowed to leave Weapons, and you think it’d be for anyone else?”

Zer0’s faceplate flashed a **WTF?** , several exclamation points, then an **OMG** as he finally stepped forward. 

Rhys outlined the specifics of the rifle as the assassin inspected it with deft movements. He was never very good with this sort of thing, and talking gave him something to do besides standing there and worrying it wouldn’t be up to par. Personally, Rhys thought it was a beautifully crafted weapon, but preferences were as individual as the shooter. Potentially not being able to overlap his standards with Zer0’s was why he had never tried entering that market in the first place.

“True to your preferences, the bullet will tear through a target’s head with enough leftover velocity to kill, or at least lethally maim, two or three individuals beyond,” he said. “The tracker tech is integrated into the system itself, so anyone who survives the shot will be tagged, and after a short delay, enjoy a radioactive beam similar to what the Hex produces. The alternate fire mode turns off this feature and increases accuracy.”

Rhys raked a hand through his hair, and looked past the assassin, down the thousand-yard range. “I was able to put three consecutive rounds into an inch diameter at a hundred yards. So, I’m sure you’ll be able to put them one on top of the other.”

Zer0 slapped in a magazine and cycled the bolt. There was a click, and the rifle went dark. He raised it to his shoulder. The spent cartridge had not even hit the concrete yet when another round cracked down the range. 

Off to their immediate right, footage of the shot hitting the target had already begun to play in slow motion on a mid-sized holo-screen. Rhys watched as all three hit precisely as predicted, dead center in the Maliwan Flash Trooper’s mask.

Then there was a click, and a brief, high-pitched hum as the alternate fire mode activated. 

Rhys watched this shot live. An arc of golden light lanced around the two targets the bullet traversed through. 

“Beautiful weaponry,” Zer0 said, emphasizing the statement with a **< 3**. 

“You can stop looking like you’re going to throw up now,” Lorelei helpfully put in. “I told you that you were being an idiot.”

“Shut up,” Rhys said. “Both of you.” 

Patrick frowned as he finished rolling up his sleeves. “I didn’t say a word.”

“No, but you looked smugly proven right, which is worse, by the way.” Rhys unlocked the larger case Westbay, the Director of Atlas’ Weapons Division, had also brought out containing several of a similar model. One that was about 5% less accurate and lacked the radioactive properties, but any bullet that hit its mark spawned an additional projectile that honed in on the nearest enemy, including the original target. 

“You don’t keep us around to lie to you,” Patrick announced with a tone of finality. 

“That’s true.” Rhys handed over a rifle to his PA. “But you’re all still a bunch of assholes.” 

“It’s a good thing you love assholes,” Lorelei concluded, and Zer0, true to form, flashed a **:)** emote. 

“So, now, all of a sudden, being an asshole is a good thing?” Of course, Patrick would be offended by the other two assholes and not the fact that he, too, had been deemed an asshole. 

“It’s always been a good thing in that regard because we’re like the pieces of Rhys’ brain that are missing and all of us together make him a functional person.—”

Here, Rhys rolled his eyes as he lifted two more snipers from the case. 

“—You’re just also a real asshole because nine times out of ten, you can’t take a goddamn joke.”

Patrick paused thoughtfully, then said, “Yeah, okay, that makes sense, but your jokes are terrible overall, so that’s on you, not me.”

“See, a real asshole,” Lorelei said, accepting the proffered rifle, and Patrick just shrugged. 

“Personal opinion.” 

“Same on the jokes.” 

“Fair.” 

Rhys eyed them warily. “I’m not sure how I feel about what’s happening right now,” he said, and Zer0 contributed a very supportive **LOL**.

“A little apprehensive. A little excited.” Lorelei hefted the weapon onto her shoulder and put a hand on her hip. “I know it’s been a while, but it’s like riding a bicycle. Relax into it, and it’ll feel good. It always does.”

Rhys laughed before he could stop himself. The lowkey callout on the longest dry spell on record did not even bother him. Lorelei was an asshole, sure, but never malicious. She was 100% ride or die for each of them and would happily paint the whole damn planet red with blood on their behalf. Patrick was like that as well. It was indisputably why Zer0 was all right with leaving for an unspecified amount of time to go exact some revenge of his own.

“It has been a cool minute since we’ve done this,” he conceded. 

“There is nothing wrong with that.” Patrick was quick to defend. “Saturating the market with a bunch of slightly different models just like everyone else would be—“

“Stupid,” Lorelei suggested, then grinned. 

The smirk Patrick allowed was much more conservative but pleased all the same. Then he set his glasses aside. It was always strange seeing him without them on. He looked younger, or perhaps just unburdened.

“I was going to say ‘counterproductive to our goals,’ but stupid works too,” he said. “Same rules as usual?” 

Rhys nodded as he loaded the rifle. “Yeah. Why change a good thing?”

“One new instrument / To name is enough for me. / That said, I’m in.” 

“Any ideas yet?” Rhys was pretty sure he knew the answer but figured it wouldn’t hurt to check. 

“A few, but I need / Some quality time with her / Before I decide.”

“Popping heads on Nekrotafeyo will be the perfect way to do that,” Lorelei remarked to Zer0, who readily agreed with a **;)**. 

Rhys didn’t think about how he was using Maya’s death and the ongoing war to distract Zer0. 

He didn’t think about Jack. 

He didn’t think about where he’d be in a month. 

He concentrated on the weight of the gun in his hands, the wind speed and direction, and the necessary adjustments to account for drift-deflection. Controlling his breathing. That final act of pulling the trigger, which snapped cleanly, the slight kickback, familiar and welcome, and over in time for him to see the impact. 

The tension he carried dissipated as the bullets tore through the targets. 

Rhys had logged a lot of hours with his pistol, but there was not anything as satisfying as long-range weaponry. He was not perfect, but he had gotten damn good over the years. It gave him a sense of confidence not only in himself but in his abilities as a leader. He may not have the same relaxed disposition toward taking lives, but he appreciated those who did. Just as he appreciated how so many parts and tech came together through such incredibly exact calculations to make each other work so seamlessly. 

It may seem perverse, but at its core, it was a perverse business.

The successful conclusion to the competition was that Zer0 was the best long-rifleman in the group. That was not a revelation, they all knew. And Rhys as a close second was also not unexpected. Had he used his ECHOeye, he probably could have won outright, but where was the fun in that. They all had their strengths and preferred styles, and the purpose of this was to utilize that, and their brutally competitive nature, to thoroughly test new weapons before production release by pushing the firearm and one another to the limit. 

This game of theirs also highlighted what Rhys had learned during the war, where there were no laser scoring systems, only real red blood to signify who had been killed. A half-second of hesitation could easily mean the difference between life and death. There was no room for it. But there was room for differences. 

They complemented one another, balanced each other out. And agreeing to separate during the war to try to more effectively handle multiple fronts was what had probably caused them to lose control. Even if this group may not be what Rhys had envisioned, it was definitely what he needed. Generous amounts of assholery notwithstanding. It would not be the same without Zer0.

And it wasn’t. 

It was like losing a phantom limb. Or something. The silence just felt off. Hollow. That was a selfish complaint. Rhys knew that. But as it happens in all aspects of life, things settled back into a routine quickly enough. 

The same was true, rather more distinctly, of Jack, who did not reference his intentions surrounding Rhys or even hint at them again. So, he disregarded the conversation, which was an easy thing to do most days. They had a joking rapport and talked easily, and when Jack fell into a mood, Rhys managed it. Literally. If Jack was brooding, he needed an outlet, something to focus on to channel his stress. When he was agitated, Rhys acted like a sounding board until Jack got it all out of his system.

What dredged up that day and made Rhys wonder what it was,  _ exactly, _ Jack had planned for him, was when Rhys would catch Jack staring at him with frightening intensity. How he handled it varied mainly because he did not know how to handle it. Sometimes Rhys ignored it and went back to whatever task was at hand. Others, like at present, he would meet Jack’s gaze levelly and try to divine the reason behind it until Jack would smirk faintly and start talking. 

“I’m assuming you finally named it?”

Rhys nodded then glanced away, toward where the rifle had been on his desk up until that morning. It had taken him longer than usual to christen, but now the sniper was housed in his private shooting range with the rest of his collection. Limited production to maximize demand and profit was next, and maybe in a few months, he would release a more affordable baseline model. 

“So?”

“The Unturnable.  _ ‘Direct fate according to the laws of necessity.’” _

“Not bad, kitten. What’s next?”

Rhys drummed his metal fingers on the glass a moment. Then decided, whatever. Jack was already the only person in the universe that did not work for him and knew Skywell-27 had been more or less out of commission without their Vault key fragment. Not just ‘damaged’ from the full-on assault Katagawa had launched post-Zanara. So, Rhys tapped at the keyboard until a subsection of Skywell pulled up on the holo-projector. He manipulated the screen, waving through various related projects until he came across an assault rifle prototype. It began to slowly rotate.

“Outside of breaking ground on Skywell-13, we have already applied this technology to our defense perimeters and turrets,” Rhys told him. “It’s incredibly efficient, and the next logical step is applying it to handheld weaponry. Maliwan already does this, but in a way I hate. Theirs builds up energy over several seconds, then expels it in a devastating, shittily controlled blow.”

Rhys leaned back in the chair and angled it toward the windows. “This,” he continued, gesturing at the projection, “would be sort of like if E-Tech and COV weaponry had a baby. A self-sustaining laser system that would eradicate the necessity of ammo and theoretically the accuracy would be—”

An alert blinked across his HUD.

Decrypting the message was reflex, and the glow from Rhys’ ECHOeye extinguished at once as he exited his subsystems. The blue of Jack’s hologram seemed so bright afterward, vibrant as if he were demanding Rhys’ attention. 

“You know, it’s super creepy when you check out like that,” Jack said flatly.

“I— uh, sorry. It’s just that we’re ready. For the transfer, that is.”

They stared at each other a moment as the news sank in. Then with a grin that sent Rhys’ heart thumping, Jack said: “Have you ever wanted something you thought you couldn’t have?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unnecessary rambles 2.0:  
> (1) More Greek Mythology stuff: Atropos or “The Unturnable” is a metaphor for death & one of the Moirai, ie: the three goddesses of fate who personified the inescapable destiny of man.
> 
> (2) My inspo for Patrick's physical appearance is [Chris Hemsworth from Ghostbusters](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1lnmuwjSzaMtf4eztDJlagyvBron1boyI) 😅 His pistol would be named like... Themistes (the divine voice who first instructed mankind in the primal laws of justice and morality): _That man went through the wrong door!_ And, naturally, Lorelei's would be the Rebel Yell: _When you charge, yell like Furies._ Because, I mean, lets be real...
> 
> (3) The [concept art](https://drive.google.com/file/d/15JvGM0Cwja4ovL-2ktnxzvosHGyPri_Y/view?usp=sharing) I used to decide how Promethea's day/night cycle sort of works. *shrug*
> 
> And (4) Hnnnnn. You guys... I'm so freaking excited to be closing in on bringing Jack back.  
> 


	9. Unyielding Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy. Shit. Writing Jack like an imaginary friend in a conversation with multiple people _sucks_. I'm glad I won't have to do that anymore.
> 
> Shoutout to [Lara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues) for, first of all, encouraging me to write this fic, as well as helping me through blocks, playing Stardew Valley co-op with me when I get stressed out & need a real-life reset, & yeeting prime fic music my direction. ♥️

It turned out the answer to Jack’s question was, in fact, yes. 

There were plenty of things Rhys wanted that he knew he couldn’t have like the universe or that call from his mom. And up until this specific moment in time, Rhys  _ thought _ a goddamn bagel from the Bagel Bin was included on that list. But here was Patrick, bless him, holding a brown paper bag with its dearly missed logo on it. An angry looking bagel with ‘eat me’ branded into it.

As Rhys reached for the bag, Patrick pulled it back. Then slapped his hand away when he kept reaching and had very much entered Patrick’s personal space. 

“Hohohhooohmygod. I’ve been envisioning this blond asshat’s death in a multitude of ways over the last several months, but I think I’ve finally narrowed it down.” 

Rhys grimaced, both at what he knew to be Jack’s incredibly vicious creativity and at how Patrick’s eyes had narrowed in displeasure. He would give anything to not be in his current predicament.

Patrick had obtained most of his power and respect here, not through proximity to Rhys, but via his own considerable intelligence and sheer will. Department heads and other higher-ups had learned the hard way ages ago to not treat Patrick with contempt or scorn. He was not some dismissible gatekeeper or pretty face catering to Rhys’ every whim. Just like Lorelei and Zer0, he had his place in Rhys’ Inner Circle for a reason. Personal assistant was not the most accurate term for him at this point, but neither of them cared enough to adjust the title. His salary more than accounted for his responsibilities, which were, in summary, helping keep things running smoothly. And a large part of that amounted to weeding out bullshit. 

Rhys’ included. 

Fortunately, his cover was more than plausible. The problem was he felt as though he were eroding from the stress at a cellular level. It made him listless and gravely indifferent. Rhys had needed time to clear his schedule for a few days. Rushing Patrick would have only attracted scrutiny. So, Rhys had done his best to offset Jack’s increasing volatility over the eight-hour delay. Pissing him off right before the transfer was like the cherry on top of this proverbial shit sundae. 

Rhys was feeling freshly demoralized about successfully navigating himself through this and chomping down on some bagels, potentially his  _ most favorite  _ bagels, at the end of the day. 

“Sorry, I just saw the logo and— reacted. How did you get that?” 

“Turns out, Macklin had a twin, and it used to be a family business until there was a disagreement over the aesthetic benefits of using metal bins over plastic for their displays.” Patrick raised one eyebrow. “Apparently, that is grounds for estrangement. Anyhow, we tracked down Maclean, the brother, where he was operating in the port city of Pontus, and he happily agreed to open a second location over in—”

“Great story, asshole. Rhys.” 

His gaze flicked over to Jack’s. He was beside Patrick, standing about a foot away with his arms folded. 

“Take the goddamn food, you look like you fucking need it, and get rid of him.”

Rhys slowly nodded as he tried to process the unyielding reality of what was happening right now. 

“—than downtown Meridian. He’ll pull in a lot more business here in Atlas Dominion anyway.” 

“He certainly will. I can’t believe you guys did this,” Rhys managed, throat tight as two coordinated messages blinked across his HUD at precisely 20:25: (1) ‘It’s good you like / touching balls. Cuz bite-sized stuffed / bagel balls are back.’ and (2) ‘If they’re cold, that’s Patrick’s fault, but check the bag, there should be some warm ones in there.’

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“It was Lorelei’s idea,” Patrick admitted with a hint of a smirk. “Zer0 and I did the digging, and she went out there to threaten him into submission, but it luckily proved unnecessary. Telling you was supposed to be ‘a thing’ once they officially opened, but we figured you could use the pick-me-up after this.”

“I think that’s a fair assumption,” Rhys agreed, even if it was not for the reasons Patrick believed. 

“I wouldn’t have shown up unannounced like this otherwise, but I also know you don’t like having people around afterward. So.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Jack’s tone had an edge to it.

Rhys moved his head faintly, as though to tell Patrick  _ no problem  _ and Jack—  _ later.  _

Patrick held the bag out for Rhys to take. It seemed a whole hell of a lot of wrong to accept, but he did. The brown paper crinkled enthusiastically in his prosthetic’s death grip. 

It was commonplace lately to be reminded that despite his losses and crimes and bottomless ambition Rhys was still surrounded by people who honestly cared for him. That somehow, impossibly, he was allowed to continue living a life he did not deserve. He was unable to deprive himself of this, even though he knew he should. Which was why it—  _ hurt—  _ when Raesler came through a nearby door, froze in her tracks, and said: “Oh, thank god. Pat, I didn’t know what I was going to do if he tried to kill Rhys. I’m so glad he told you.”

The following second seemed to drag on for an eternity. 

Then Jack let out a hollow chuckle and began to wander away. Patrick, for his part, continued to stare at Raesler as though she had violently kicked his legs out from beneath him.

“I didn’t,” Rhys said, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Oh. Um. Well.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. “I stand by what I said. I have to pee, then after this— is settled, we can start?”

“Of course, Pen.” 

She nodded and stepped across the hall, but paused just before disappearing through the doorway. “I am sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

At that, Jack whirled around and stalked over to Rhys’ side. “Bullshit, she doesn’t.” He snapped the words as though he were on the verge of snarling. “Highly classified generally means you don’t want  _ assholes _ finding out about it.”

Rhys sighed faintly and glanced down as if to inspect the polish on the toes of his shoes. “Right, well, for me, this was only a matter of time,” he said, then looked up. 

Patrick was— concerned about Rhys. That much was certain. He wore an expression Rhys had become familiar with since the day Maliwan first descended upon Promethea, and seeing it now only made him feel worse. 

He forced a faint smile. “Shall we?”

“Please.” 

Absently, Rhys nodded, then moved to the door Raesler had emerged from. He swiped his wristband, activating the retinal camera, which pinpointed his real eye with a beam of red. The door slid open.

The L-shaped room hadn’t changed much since the last time Rhys was there. Terminals, monitoring equipment, and windows overlooking the much larger lower level still lined the left side. The only noticeable difference was the three small rooms they were currently bypassing. Which now only housed an assortment of tubes and electrical wires dangling sadly from the far wall like a dissected spider web.

Downstairs, numerous bays and tables contained a variety of projects, but it was the large workstation at the opposite end of the room that Rhys was headed for. He set the bag down onto its surface amid the arsenal of computers, holo-projectors, and ECHO devices, and put his hands in his pockets. The stress nausea was nearing peak levels. Eating would definitely be a bad move, and rude? 

Patrick stood straight-backed and composed as he took in the tech and data spreads on the workstation, but Rhys could practically  _ see _ the pieces falling into place. After the Vault Hunters had left the planet, Patrick had accompanied himself and Raesler to the Skunkworks Lab. Together, they had established the security protocols to keep the incident hidden and set up the habitat for Terry and Glenn. There was nothing he wasn’t privy to.

Except for this. 

After a minute, Patrick gave him a cursory glance. Then his eyes flicked to the small sphere hovering above Rhys’ shoulder. His mouth became a grim line before directing his attention to the room in front of them. On the other side of the blue containment field was a table, an IV stand, and a hospital bed with absurdly expensive sheets. Rhys’ decision, because he didn’t want to risk being murdered over a low thread count. 

Tucked into the bed all nice like was one (1) Handsome Jack shaped meat container under sedation to neutralize any brain activity. Keep it a ‘blank slate,’ so to speak. It was easier this way than having to also contend with any memories the clone could develop in the short duration it was ‘alive.’ Human brains were infinitely more complex than ratch’s, and instead of overwriting a simple creature’s consciousness, this transfer process was like rebuilding an old-Earth library. Except the books were blank as well and wouldn’t ‘fill in’ unless they were placed on the correct shelves in the correct section on the correct floor. The architecture was precisely mapped to accomplish this. Patrick would have geeked out over the science behind it if he wasn’t currently having an existential crisis of his own. 

However, between the distance and the containment field distorting their view, not much could be determined about said meat container other than it had dark hair. Thus, it was not a surprise Patrick reached for the large projection of a human brain. He manipulated it gently until it lit up with a thousand colors. Being familiar with Raesler’s data spreads, he then tapped at the keyboard until her personal notes populated around the semi-transparent projection with a shimmering ripple.

The top, left-hand note read:  _ Project No.318: Detail mapping alignment; Subject — Handsome Jack. _

Patrick gave a sharp sigh, then slipped off his glasses. 

Throughout, Jack had been eerily quiet, watching Rhys intently like he was expecting him to renege at any moment, and staring would somehow prevent that. But he had come this far. Why would he stop now? Jack knew him well enough that should not be a concern, but Rhys also wasn’t the one whose existence was currently tied to an easily destructible chunk of tech. 

So, here, while Patrick was rubbing his forehead and eyes, Rhys took the opportunity to meet Jack’s gaze and smile apologetically. He had the slightest clue what Jack was feeling, and no idea if that helped anything or made it worse, but since Rhys could barely tell what he was feeling himself, it was all he could offer.

Finally, Patrick’s mouth formed some words. 

“Lorelei was right,” he said, looking at Rhys with the expression of a disappointed parent. “I’m going to have to tell her that she was right, because you are, in fact, an idiot. We are  _ literally _ the pieces of your brain that are missing, because if you had come to us about your unrest, if you hadn’t lied and hid how deep it ran, we could have helped. We could have counteracted what you were feeling before it came to this. You are  _ not _ the only one who has lost someone for this company, and,” his voice faltered, “I get Lattimore crossed a line. I get that he crossed it  _ multiple times.  _ I get that more than anyone. But what happened to your mother was— _ an accident, Rhys.  _ All of our intel corroborates that.”

“Pumpkin, that last bit about Lattimore, you’re going to need to explain that. Like  _ now.”  _ Jack stepped forward, pushing off the wall he had been leaning against and pointing downward emphatically. 

Rhys closed his eyes a moment. “This isn’t about Lattimore,” he said, then to Jack added: “None of our spies have direct access to him—”

Patrick let out a harsh laugh and planted both hands on the countertop as Rhys began addressing thin air.

“—and that’s intentional because it lowers the risk substantially. We place them in areas like accounting and IT, where it’s easy enough for us to gather sweeps of information and cobble together what he’s up to. Including proof that every assassination attempt on me over the past six years was at his instruction.”

Jack’s expression was growing hard, and his eyes were accusing as though Rhys had lied to him.

“I didn’t lie,” Rhys insisted calmly. “I told you about the spies. I told you that they could get you in. I just didn’t see how whining about him trying to kill me—

“Repeatedly,” Jack supplied in a biting tone.

“Yes, repeatedly. I didn’t see how that was relevant to anything.” Rhys shrugged loosely. “I live on, and I wasn’t looking for the first war I had to fight.”

“Of course,” Patrick breathed as he straightened and tilted his head back. Then he looked at Rhys levelly. “That is what this is about, isn’t it? You cannot. You have to stop. The things he has done, the things he is capable of doing— You are lucky to be alive as it is, and even if he decides to leave us intact for helping him, there is no guarantee he won’t pick up right where he left off. The guilt alone will destroy you.”

Rhys laughed abruptly. 

The sound an unexpected thing that seemed to be wayyyyy too genuine. But that was amusing. Hilarious even. 

Even more so because all of the irritation that bordered on rage in the room vanished. It was like a switch flipped, and the matching pairs of adorably furrowed brows turned Rhys’ direction were just fantastic. He wished he could take a picture. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “It’s just that, it already has.” 

“Rhys, it wasn’t your fault,” Patrick said slowly. “None of it was.” 

Rhys shook his head and scuffed his shoe lightly against the tile. He hated this. He hated prodding at it. He hated that he was not simply fine and keeping it under control. Because now, like this, Rhys was keenly aware that his control had slipped entirely somewhere along the way, and he was not even sure how. 

There was something between him and Jack in that too.

He knew better than most what Jack was capable of, but Rhys also did not care. Not the way he should. Jack didn’t become a father out of ambition. He didn’t reject real connections with people because he was incapable of it. Jack was not a monster. He simply knew at his core that he was fallen. That he had sacrificed everything that had ever mattered to the abyss, so what did he care if he watched the universe burn?

Rhys, however, needed to believe that someone could wake up so far from where they thought they would be that they barely recognized their life, and course correct.

They locked eyes.

The realizations, guilt, and consequences, they were always there for the both of them, it just manifested differently. 

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Rhys told him, arching an eyebrow. Jack smirked and seemed to relax slightly. 

He redirected his attention to Patrick. “But despite being on the winning side, yet again, I haven’t seen anything indicating that it was actual moral superiority that made a difference.”

“You reacted appropriately when necessary. Nothing more. Nothing less,” Patrick persisted. “And that moral superiority you are unable to recognize is glaringly evident right now. If this was flipped around, he would have ended you on Pandora. There would not be a second chance given at his expense.” 

Jack slid fluidly in front of Rhys; leaned in close so that his hologram was all but touching him. “Kitten,” he murmured, no doubt intentionally so Rhys would have to give Jack his full attention. “This asshole doesn’t know a goddamn thing about me, and if you don’t want me to disembowel your PA and string him up decoratively by his intestines, you might want to wrap this up.”

“Trust me, I’m not enjoying this anymore than you are,” Rhys allowed quietly. “And I get you don’t care, but—”

“You’re right. I don’t care about him. I care about getting my hands on what’s mine, and this is unnecessarily delaying that.”

“You’re not going to get Hyperion back overnight—” His train of thought broke off as Raesler placed a hand on the center of Patrick’s back upon her return. A simple, innocent physical touch that caused his posture to ease.

“That was weird,” he noted, watching Patrick stoop down some so she could speak into his ear.

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“I think he has a thing for Pen.”

“Jesus-fucking- _Christ,_ Rhys. Focus.”

“Right.” Rhys reached up for the sphere. Then carefully depressed the latches to disengage the device. The gentle humming ceased at once. Upon separation, he set the machine aside and curled his fingers around the cube. Though this day had been coming for months now, Rhys felt overwhelmed by the knowledge that like this, he could protect Jack from himself. That, in a way, he had been doing that for years now. 

He loathed to acknowledge it, but deciding to do this was extending no small amount of trust to Jack. Something Rhys had done instinctively rather than consciously.

“Patrick,” Rhys began cautiously as the man sighed and took a few steps away. “I have to finish this.” 

“I am aware that there is no stopping you once you have your mind set on something,” he said stiffly. “I am not sure why I tried.” 

“Because you are the kind of person with the quality of character to succeed if I give you enough time with it. Which I never do for a reason.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t turn on the charm. Not right now.” 

It was not relief that Rhys felt then, more like a slight decrease in pressure. Like he could stand a little straighter. “Later, then?”

“I am not going to quit if that is what you are worried about.”

“It obviously was,” Raesler put in happily as she pulled up several more projections, system energy levels, vitals, etcetera. “But now that  _ that  _ is settled, I’m ready if you are, Rhys.”

“I am.” 

“Friggin’  _ finally,”  _ Jack muttered so quietly Rhys would not have caught it if he wasn’t so close. 

The containment field lowered. 

“This won’t fail,” Rhys said, setting the device into the dock.

“I’m not going anywhere, kiddo.”

Rhys heard the quiet threat woven into Jack’s reply, but still, his lips curved into a small smile as he typed in the authorization code. 

His finger hovered above the final key. He felt as though he was one tiny step away from his own destruction, and at the same time, alive with that feeling of greatness that always made him crave more. 

He looked up. 

Jack stared him hard in the eye for a moment, then nodded. 

“Two minutes,” Rhys promised. “Tops.”

He pressed enter. 

There was a single erratic spike in brain activity as Jack vanished. Raesler beamed as the readings returned to normal, albeit slightly elevated levels. 

“That was anticlimactic,” was Patrick’s critical input though he seemed to be taking this all in stride now.

To be fair, it was pretty uneventful overall, but what did he expect? Jack to jump up and start murdering everyone? … Though that was technically still a possibility. 

“Look, I know we need to talk, but it’ll have to be later. We can even include Lorelei if you’d like.”

Patrick nodded. “I think that would be best.” 

“Okay. Then we will. Just stay out of the way for now. Let me handle this. Jack hates you, like weirdly inordinate amounts, and—”

“Everyone hates me.”

“That’s not true,” Raesler said, and Rhys tried to hide a smirk at the way Patrick actually looked surprised by that. Of course, he noticed and shot a baleful glance in his direction.

“But, we need to wrap this up,” she added.

As Rhys turned to do just that, Patrick grabbed his shoulder. Then smoothed his palm across it as if feeling for the strap of his holster. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going in there—  _ unarmed,”  _ Rhys said, lifting his prosthetic.

“After that, I hope he does kill you.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Patrick gave a pained sounding sigh, which had Rhys smiling. 

The moment of levity did not last long. Within seconds, the monitors on Jack’s chest and stomach were transferred haphazardly to Raesler’s sleeve. The IV from his arm removed, and the puncture wound covered with a bandage.  _ Healing, ATLAS-T!,  _ it read. Then he was alone, standing over Jack with a hypo in hand.

Rhys reached out and used his fingertips to pluck the thin silver band that sort of resembled a simple, unadorned crown from his head. It caused his hair to fall across his forehead, the streak of grey amid the dark brunet contrasting nicely. Rhys trailed his eyes along the arch of Jack’s cheekbones, his lips, and the precise angles of his jaw. His face, his real face was almost exactly the same as the mask. Except his features were softer. He didn’t look like something carved out of marble.

Before too many seconds slipped by, Rhys pressed the hypo into his shoulder. It had to be now. There were no reasons to stall, and there was no going back. 

Tension shot through Jack’s entire body as soon as he was conscious. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at Rhys. 

His heart seemed to abruptly stall. 

“Raesler said to drink some water,” Rhys found himself saying, unable to tear his own mismatched gaze away from Jack’s blue and green eyes. “She said it’ll help.”

“Help what?” Jack asked, not in that infamously smooth voice Rhys had always known, but one scratchy and hoarse.

“That.”

Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up properly. “What, you don’t like it?”

“Not really, do you?”

“No.” The answer left Jack with a struggle, distaste plain in the way he admitted that. He stood and grabbed the bottle of spring water on the nearby table. 

Rhys glanced around the room, trying to look at anything that was not Jack only wearing a pair of soft pajama bottoms. Stupid place didn’t have much he could pretend to be looking at. He pressed his lips into a hard line and blinked before staring just past him. Determined to wait out Jack deciding to put the damn shirt on.

“So, care to explain why I have an audience for this?” he asked, gesturing over to where Patrick was still standing by the workstation with his arms crossed.

“My cover was that I needed to move up some reprogramming due to a scheduling conflict.”

Jack lowered the glass container from his lips and cleared his throat. “And that’s normally a thing?”

“Unfortunately,” Rhys admitted. 

Jack began to inspect himself like he was taking inventory that everything was where it should be. Which, alright, that was the least Rhys could have expected really. 

“Why?”

Rhys had to avert his gaze entirely as Jack literally pulled the front of his pants out and looked down. “I told you there was permanent damage from what I did. Reprogramming isn’t the standard two-minute process with a manageable headache for me anymore.”

“What is it then?” Jack asked after a displeased pause.

“The first time I underwent massive reprogramming after the rebuild, I had a seizure,” Rhys said, looking him in the eye. “A bad one. So, Raesler puts me under to minimize brain activity, then I’m here for a few hours afterward for monitoring. Once everything looks stable, I go home and sleep it off, but it takes a few days for me to adjust.”

Jack’s expression seemed to grow harder while he was talking.

“I’m not sure why this is pissing you off.”

He was silent for a moment before he snorted faintly and stepped toward him. The movement was slow, subtle, gradual, and then suddenly— too close. Rhys started to back away, but Jack caught hold of his prosthetic and jerked Rhys toward him. Jack wrapped his other hand around his throat, firm but not suffocating, and crowded Rhys into the wall until he was trapped against him.

Reactively, Rhys shut down his subsystems and redirected power to his mechanical arm. A direct hit to the chest wouldn’t kill Jack, but it would break a few ribs and get him out of this situation should it escalate too far.

“It’s because you did it.” 

Here, the grip on Rhys’ throat tightened, leaving him incapable of uttering a word, so breathing was definitely not happening. 

“You made me  _ need.” _ Jack was sneering as he said it. “But Handsome Jack doesn’t need anyone.” 

Even now, like this, Rhys didn’t want to hurt Jack. He just wanted him to stop, so his hand, his flesh and blood hand, scrabbled up to grab at Jack’s wrist, fingers curling around the tattoo there. 

Jack’s expression rippled, and almost instantly, his hold loosened. 

Rhys dragged in a breath. “Jack,” he gasped. “I —”

Suddenly, his face was even closer. Just centimeters away from Rhys’. He could feel the repercussions of his choices bearing down on him. But he could also feel Jack’s breath against his lips. He was beautiful and damned and warm to the touch. 

And Jack was looking at Rhys like he saw him, even though he also appeared to be insanely pissed off about that fact. 

Rhys’ heart was beating harder than it had when Jack abruptly slammed him into the wall. He could feel it against Jack’s fingers.

Everything was warm, and they were so close. Jack was so close.

Jack dipped his head closer until their lips were almost touching. Then he chuckled, dark and low, like he was about to blow off Rhys’ head point-blank. 

“So, now, you’re  _ mine.” _


	10. A Useful Tool**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’m halfway through this thing, I wanted to say THANK YOU again to everyone whether you’re a new reader or someone who’s been following along since I started this. I appreciate every hit/kudos/comment/etc. It is an incredible motivator to keep chugging along & not let this work fall to the wayside ♥️
> 
> Anyway, I do my best to appropriately tag & give a general idea where things are headed from the very start. Still, I wanted to stop & point out the tags have been updated.
> 
> Slow burns have their place, but it’s not here outside of an emotional one. So, with that said, it’s time for me to round out this thing’s E rating. Surely, everyone saw that coming...

The next thing Rhys knew, he was drowning in Jack.

His eyes widened in astonishment as Jack’s lips crashed into his.

It was a punishing kiss. Rhys felt teeth and the harsh press of lips and the incredible heat from Jack’s body bearing down on him like a wall. His tongue slid into Rhys’ mouth before withdrawing to nip at his bottom lip. Hard enough to hurt, but not to bleed. Then, while Rhys was taking advantage of the opportunity to breathe, Jack buried fingers into his hair and _pulled._

He hissed through his teeth as he was forced to arch his neck back. He was technically taller, but Jack felt larger. Rhys’ height was offset by his lankiness, while Jack owned every inch of his stature. His frame was broad and heavy, lean yet inherently muscular. It was as though his fucking genetics alone were a further testament to his superiority. Toss in his overall larger than life _presence,_ and Rhys was instilled with a renewed awareness of just how dangerous Jack was as he bit and licked at his jaw.

The hand on his throat slid down. Fingers slipping over Rhys’ skin, along his clavicle and tracing the hollow of his throat as though Jack were taking measurements. The intimacy of contact, coupled with his newfound status as one of Jack’s possessions, set Rhys on edge.

But then Jack viciously sunk his teeth into his neck, and Rhys, quite frankly, stopped caring.

The stark reality of his situation— it was still there. However, he had always known that Jack was like a black hole. That he had fallen into his inescapable orbit years ago.

But, there were a lot worse ways to go than being crushed by Handsome Jack.

He moaned, and folded his robotic arm across Jack’s back, smoothing the other up from his bicep to grasp his shoulder. The muscle twitched and flinched slightly beneath Rhys’ fingers, but Jack made a sound of satisfaction.

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he said in a low voice, his mouth near Rhys’ ear. “There’s my Rhysie.”

Jack returned a hand to his throat but didn’t apply pressure; he just left it there. Rhys could feel the heat of it seeping into his skin.

“Despite needing a reminder of what your goddamn place is, you’ve been so— _good.”_

Rhys squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of arousal that came with the praise. The hand on his neck slipped down to drag along his body before settling on his hip. Jack yanked Rhys into him, and he gave a shuddering gasp to feel the hard line of him against his own thickening length.

Jack pushed his face into the curve of Rhys’ neck and breathed in. “You think you can keep doing that for me?”

He nodded mechanically. This all seemed so surreal.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin, but I didn’t catch that.”

“We’re—” he swallowed thickly. Hyperaware of the way Jack’s nose was now brushing along his jaw. “We’re in this together. Right?”

Jack pressed a brief smile into his skin. “That’s right, kitten.”

This time when Jack shoved their mouths together, Rhys was a bit more prepared. It was hot and bruising, and Jack did not seem to care when he intermittently messed up their timing. Overwhelmed by how much Rhys wanted this. More than he had ever wanted anything before and quite possibly ever would again. And when their movements did synchronize, Rhys could _taste_ the power Jack had over him.

It was terrifying yet exhilarating because it was not one-sided. Jack had been cornered by his inability to dissuade himself to the point of not caring if Rhys died. He had seen it in the murderous rage in Jack’s eyes that hadn’t been there before his admission. It was why the severe risks reprogramming presented had angered him in the first place.

Except, Rhys also knew there was no moderation in the way Jack viewed things of value.

He should have felt panicked. He should have been cold with dread. Should have reminded himself that he did not really matter.

It was what he should do.

But instead, Rhys clutched at Jack with his own sense of possession, only breaking the kiss that took everything up when Jack undid his belt and zipper.

“Are we really doing this here?”

“What do you think?” Jack pulled Rhys through the slit in his boxers, tearing a startled moan from his mouth.

“Mm. Good boy,” Jack said, sliding his hand over the length of him. His touch was a little rough, probably how he liked it himself, and Rhys took note of that. He would rather have the knowledge than the disinterested ease of his own hand.

“I should be glad that fucking asshole finally left, but y’know, I’m not. I’m reeeeally not.”

Rhys blinked to notice the containment field was up and that no one was on the other side. Which, like, thank god. Facing Patrick again was going to be bad enough as it was.

But also, what the fuck? What if this had been some sort of fucked up distraction? Not that Jack would ever bother with one. If he had wanted to sink something sharp into Rhys’ stomach, he would have just done it. But still…

He chose to focus on Jack’s contradictory bullshit and not his own. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?”

Jack grinned wildly. “You don’t do a piss poor job when you _try,”_ he said, pausing to give Rhys’ cock a pointed squeeze.

It felt more like a threat than a come on.

Rhys nodded numbly before reaching for Jack’s hip. It was easy enough to move his pants out of the way and grasp him. Jack was unbelievably hard, already leaking a little pre-come that Rhys used to slicken his palm as he dragged his hand back up the hot skin. With a growl, Jack sank his teeth into Rhys’ lip so hard he was positive blood had been drawn. The sudden jolt of pain mixing in with the pleasure from Jack stroking him made Rhys moan into his mouth.

Jack resumed his set pace, and Rhys was content to follow his lead. Tightening and twisting as Jack undid the top few buttons of his shirt. Then his mouth was at the juncture of Rhys’ neck and shoulder. He kissed and bit along the bared expanse, and when he reached a certain point, Rhys moaned gutturally and throbbed in his hand.

It couldn’t last— Rhys couldn’t last. He was surprised he had lasted this long. It had been nearly two years since anyone had touched him in any way that could be considered sexual. Running an empire left Rhys with very little time for himself. And while this might be some kind of strange reward for ‘being good,’ or whatever, he was not going to regret a minute of it.

Rhys leaned against the wall heavily and shut his eyes. Enjoying the scrape of teeth over sensitive flesh, Jack sucking at his neck until Rhys could feel it bruise, the smooth slide of skin as his hand moved up and down. It was so fucking simple and so fucking _good._

He was close.

“So close,” he breathed out, half a gasp and half a moan.

Jack grabbed his chin, pressing his thumb into Rhys’ jaw painfully hard. “Look at me.”

His eyes snapped open to find Jack sneering again, but his eyes were a storm. A clash of unbridled desire and spite and that frightening intensity that sent Rhys careening to the edge. His metal fingers clamped down on Jack’s shoulder as he felt himself swell and stiffen further in Jack’s fist.

“Do it,” Jack demanded. “Do it now, and tell me who you belong to.”

Rhys did. His coordination faltering as he came with Jack’s name and mouth on his lips. He shuddered as Jack worked him through it, but not wanting to fuck this up, Rhys, somehow, forced his motions to even back out. It was enough. Almost instantly, Jack broke away to bury his face in the crook of his neck and gave a deep tortured groan as he throbbed in Rhys’ grip.

Afterward, it took a minute for Rhys to come back to himself, and he did it inhaling the scent of Jack’s skin and hair. He was surrounded by it. Surrounded by him in every way. Physically and even mentally because he could not stop thinking about what just happened. By stages, Rhys eased his hold on Jack’s shoulder and waited for him to step away.

And Jack did. Eventually. But not before wiping his hand off on Rhys’ slacks and putting him back together, which was equal parts standard bastard and bizarre courtesy.

Rhys surveyed himself with mild amusement as Jack finished off the bottle of water. His belt was perfectly centered, and Jack had even partially untucked his shirt. It was _almost_ as if nothing had happened, except, well, his pants were ruined because they were wool and Jack had also come on him.

Probably on purpose with how he had shoved his hips up against Rhys’.

He wiped his hand off as well. It wasn’t like it mattered at this point anyway. Then buttoned his shirt and fixed his tie.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“An inaccurate version of it, sure,” Rhys noted, watching the bruises his metal fingers had dug into Jack’s shoulder disappear underneath his clothing.

Jack straightened out the t-shirt before pulling on his socks. “Yeah. That’s probably true, with your brain being all me-addled. But don’t worry, kitten, your cognitive functions will only be unreliable for a few hours,” he continued in a reassuring tone. “Until it evens back out, I’ll make sure you don’t do anything that might cause more permanent damage to that little noggin of yours. Mainly for me, because I’m kinda partial to it as is, but also for you, too. I guess. But hey! Like I said, you don’t do a piss poor job of pleasing me when you try, and now you have proof of that.”

He stopped lacing his boot to throw an arm out and gesture helpfully at Rhys’ slacks. “So, you’re welcome.”

“You are the literal worst.” Rhys was smiling despite his tone.

Jack’s grin widened, teeth very white and straight, and it was almost happy, unlike almost any other smile he had ever given Rhys. “Best. That word you’re failing to grasp right now is ‘best.’”

“I’m sure it’ll come back to me eventually.”

“You want to know what will help with that? Food.”

He hummed noncommittally and went over to the containment field. Without it front and center, Rhys could feel how thoroughly the stress had eaten at him. He was exhausted and sooooo hungry. He could not remember when he had last eaten. Probably breakfast, but since then, it felt like he had been cut out of one reality, dropped into another, and just left there to deal with a new set of problems.

But there was a way forward. He would find it. Hopefully, while devouring some bagels.

It had been a bit since Rhys used his ECHOeye to hack, and doing something so deeply ingrained into him was oddly grounding. Within seconds, he had accessed the barrier’s operating system and used RHY5-W1NZ.exe to override the security program.

The containment field powered down. Then Rhys felt fingers on his shoulder, and he did not flinch, not exactly, but he could not stop himself from tensing. Jack either didn’t notice or didn’t care, of which the latter seemed most likely, and draped the arm loosely around Rhys to pull him along.

“I want sushi, like offensive amounts of sushi, and nachos. Load that bitch up too. Oh! And maybe some pretzels. The crunchy kind. Not the soft _or stale_ kind. I hate pretzels in general, but stale ones are like eating sad cardboard.”

Rhys was grateful when Jack dropped the arm from his shoulders to begin rummaging around on the workstation. “If you hate pretzels, then why do you want any at all?”

“I’m snacky, and pretzels are— a snack. Duh.”

“Ohhhhh-kay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, hold this for me.” Jack slotted the device back into the sphere. It shot up to hover over Rhys’ shoulder, and he gave Jack a dry look.

He winked. “Thanks, kitten,” he said, then resumed his pace with Rhys obediently trailing in his wake. “Now, let’s go track down that stupid fucking assistant of yours. Seriously, what an asshole. If he threw those bagels away or something just to be petty, I really will eviscerate him.”

“He has them upstairs,” Rhys supplied. “I told him we would talk later.”

“And he just dictates when later is by holding your food hostage?” Jack asked sharply.

“No. It’s an arrangement I have with my—” _friends,_ Rhys thought, but went with the safer: “council. When one of them believes they’ve come across something that could pose a threat to myself or the company, we meet as soon as possible to discuss it.”

Jack swung around, eyes narrowed.

“At this point, I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Jack said, drawing himself up. _“You_ of all people know that.”

His heart was picking up the pace again. “I took every precaution I could think of to keep this from happening,” Rhys tried in placation. “Like you said, he doesn’t know anything about you, and I’m not saying he needs to. You don’t ever even have to see him, or Lorelei, again, but I do.”

“You don’t need them.”

“You’re right, I could do this by myself.” He glanced nervously at Jack’s feet before continuing, his voice measured. “But why would I want to when I don’t have to?”

His eyes flickered, and his expression grew reserved as though Jack were re-evaluating something.

Rhys did not want him to re-evaluate. If he did, he might decide to change his strategy, and Rhys liked how the most unpredictable variable in all of this had seemed to be stabilizing.

“It won’t change anything,” he said seriously. “I feel like that should be pretty obvious from where you’re standing.”

Jack’s lips quirked slightly. “Fair point, cupcake,” he said, then ushered them into the hall. “But I’ll tell you one thing, if it does, at any point in time, I will exact dual revenge.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

He was Jack’s, and Jack never lost anything. People took things away. It was revenge that brought out the worst in him, not the prospect of gain. The death, rage, and darkness; Jack would suffer and sacrifice for as long as it took to destroy those responsible.

Rhys smiled bitterly to himself as he thought about the contrast between them.

Their relationship— whatever it was and wherever it was headed— felt like some cruel form of irony. It was as likely to destroy them both as it was everything in the universe except one another.

Without waiting for a reply, Jack abruptly changed the subject, and Rhys was relieved. He already felt like he was walking a razor’s edge, and that his determination could only take him so far before it reached a point and everything came crashing down. 

And for a moment, it looked liable to happen as Jack waltzed into the conference room like he owned the place. Ignoring, Patrick and Lorelei he kept right on rambling as he dug himself out a bagel bite. Then Jack gave Rhys’ temple a noisy kiss with a “see ya soon, kiddo” before grabbing the sphere and heading on up to their floor. 

When Rhys was certain Jack had ascended and would not be returning, it was like the tension building back up inside him finally broke. Closing his eyes, Rhys let out a sigh, feeling the air leave his chest in one long exhale, and his shoulders slumped as he did so. 

Looking up, he tried to force a smile onto his face to reassure. But it wouldn’t quite come. Perhaps if Rhys had been less worn down, it would have. But Jack’s insidiously obsessive nature was like a cage. There was no way out. Rhys would never escape. 

And on the surface, he was okay with that. 

He had told Jack he wouldn’t lose anything else, not willingly— and that included him. 

“Where do you want to start?” Rhys asked. 

It was exhausting to try to help them understand. It ate into mental resources Rhys could not afford to give them. He wished they were angry. Placed the blame where it was due instead of eyeing him with something that looked an awful lot like pity.

It would be easier that way. 

After about fifteen minutes of this Q&A, Rhys leaned back in the chair and pressed his palms into his eyes. Thought about the marks on his neck and the flush on his cheeks he had not been able to stop when Jack kissed him. At least his slacks were a light grey herringbone today instead of his usual black pinstripe. Really, the damning evidence of his dumbassery could be so much worse. 

There should have been a limit. A point at which Rhys realized he would trap himself into a corner. But the difference between genius and stupidity was that geniuses knew that there were limits. 

He had never claimed to be a genius.

“For once, I’m not trying to give you shit,” Lorelei said. “It’s just, to go through all of this trouble to bring him back and then say it’s not like that, I just don’t get it. We’re honestly trying to understand what you are to him that’s going to keep you, and Atlas, safe.” 

Rhys nodded slowly. His whole body felt leaden. If there was ever a time to lie, it was now. But he couldn’t. Not anymore. Not if he wanted to salvage what little trust he had left with them. 

“I’m— a useful tool.”

And just like that, Rhys carved his successful way forward into a shard so narrow he wondered if he was imagining its continued existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to commission art for my fics, sort of like a “hey, you’re doing great, here's something nice for yourself.” With that said, [here’s a little messy sketchy](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1a7FeJivkGBzRRIhIYklUHPefke6NOt73/view?usp=sharing) from [6utton](https://6utton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr of these two halves of a full idiot. (The link takes you to my google drive because this specific commission was never publicly posted.)
> 
>  **UPDATE 09.26.20:** [A lovely piece of fanart from SSRhack](https://twitter.com/SSRhack/status/1309855790761562112?s=20). Go love on her ♥️


	11. Risk Assessment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have done this last chapter, but I want to leave a gentle reminder that 3rd person limited POV necessarily involves some distortions of vision & missed/misconstrued events due the character’s mental state & biases. Humans are, at their core, dumbasses. 
> 
> Also, since smut isn't everyone's thing, I will toss up double asterisks behind my titles on chapters containing it as a preemptive FYI. Since the heads up was already there last chapter, I went back and added them just for consistency...

Rhys woke, feeling as though he had only just closed his eyes. He took a deep, slow breath, and for a few seconds, was confused.

The room was dark and quiet, but through the wide window that was his wall, there were no stars. It was only the circadian system built into the glass creating an artificial night. This definitely meant it was still ‘time to fucking sleep’ even if day and night on Promethea was more of a suggestion than concrete fact.

Blinking slowly into awareness, it finally registered what had roused him. His subsystems automatically went silent when he passed out, but anything that was not standard operations sort of felt like something was prodding at him from within.

Rhys called up his HUD. 

_ 05:13 (2) missed calls from Handsome Jackass _

He was mildly surprised and admittedly a little annoyed, but overall, Not Ready to spend another day slamming his head into a wall and refusing to take no for an answer. His head ached from it, and from how endlessly strung out he felt. Part of him wanted to disconnect from the ECHOnet and be a Rhys-filled blanket burrito for the day because this was it. The point in life where he realized he was defined by his regrets. 

And there were _ so many _ of them.

The ability to see that did not change anything, however. Rhys rolled onto his back and began rifling through his messages. Of course, there was nothing from Jack clueing him into what he had wanted. But there was an alarming amount of emails from Patrick, who had apparently spent his night conducting a comprehensive risk assessment of the ‘operational incident,’ a request slash update from Raesler, and a very brief, ominous message from Lorelei about the return of his favorite balls. 

It took a minute for Rhys to register the subtext of it all. Somehow, in a very business as usual way, they each reiterated that they still had his back, every step of the way. Patrick had even ended one email with what could be mistaken as admiration for the level of misdirection and forethought put into the entire endeavor. That alone had probably taken Patrick more effort than Rhys could possibly calculate. It was about as close to unconditional acceptance as he was likely to get from his PA, and he would take it. 

That, and what was sure to be a horrendous amount of assholery from Lorelei for the same reason. 

Rhys did not think this particular outcome would be the worst per se, but it had ranked pretty solidly in the top five he wanted to avoid. He had anticipated that everything he could depend upon would fall away since he had selfishly abandoned everything he knew to be right. But there Rhys was, just lying in bed, doing what he always did in the morning when facing a crisis of nebulous parameters. As if this was not an event of his making alone, but something unforeseen and collectively theirs. 

A new notification slowly blinking in the corner of his HUD broke him from his thoughts. 

It was an ECHOcall. Despite going through the trouble of setting up a direct line to himself months ago, Jack had never used it. Rhys could only speculate as to why that was. Or why now, all of a sudden, he had called three times in a matter of fifteen minutes. Jack had seemed happy enough last night, borderline affectionate even, when Rhys checked in before calling it quits for the day. But it was impossible to predict what he might do next. 

Hesitantly, Rhys answered. 

_ “Finally,”  _ Jack said as he picked up. “I was about to— Why am I still looking at your stupid logo twirling around instead of your face?”

“My arm is detached. You do know what time it is, right?”

Jack made an unconcerned sound of acknowledgment. “Princess, I have your sleeping habits memorized, so don’t act like I’m inconveniencing you right now. Especially when I’m the one being fucking inconvenienced.”

He sighed and ran fingers through his hair. Over the years, Rhys had grown accustomed to waking early. Then, as a more recently acquired habit, he had come to open his eyes even earlier to keep Jack company before starting his schedule for the day. Sleep was one of the few pleasures Rhys had left, and after yesterday, all he wanted was just a little bit more of it.

It wasn’t like he necessarily needed it. He could get by on very little sleep and often wondered why that was. The other basics, eating, bathing, and that slow, steady breathing that seemed to center him, however, were what made him feel human most days. 

Which was not at all how Rhys currently felt. 

He was pretty sure his stomach was trying to eat itself. He felt awful. Jack probably did too. Raesler had warned him that Jack’s body-clock and metabolism would be all over the place for a few days as the accelerant worked its way out of his system. So, being woken up by, what Rhys considered to be at least, a reasonably content Jack in the face of that was a flipping miracle.

“Hungry?”

“And bored. Get your ass down here.”

Rhys pushed himself upright, and the room brightened almost imperceptibly. “I need to shower first. What do you want?”

“Waffles. Don’t accidentally slip down the drain. I might miss you,” Jack said, then the line went dead. 

He rolled his eyes and lowered his feet to the floor, which prompted the tint to gradually fade off the rest of the way. Thirty minutes later, Rhys was freshly showered and dressed and striding into his office. 

Several steps into the room, he froze.

Before him, Jack sat at his desk, as in the enormous glass-topped desk like his own that Rhys had set up in the guest apartment, stuffing his face.

“How—”

“Not all of us are delicate little things like you are,” Jack said around a mouthful of waffle.

Rhys blushed. He had an eternal propensity toward scrawniness, regardless of his physical condition. Not that Rhys had ever bothered maintaining one. His looks, more specifically his cheekbones, were more than redeeming. They had only gotten sharper over the years as life ground him down and refined him into what he was today.

“Okay, but why?”

Jack finally looked up, and Rhys’ heart lept slightly. His eyes ran over him from head to toe. Rhys pretended not to notice. 

“Kitten,” he said after a moment. “Is your brain still scrambled, or did I make a fucking mistake by allowing you to talk to your little friends without me?”

“What? No. Neither. I just— I had assumed you’d want your privacy.” 

Jack popped another bite into his mouth. He appeared to be considering as he chewed. Then he set the fork aside to take a drink of coffee.

“Seems like there is still plenty of that up here,” he said, standing and giving Rhys a piercing look. 

“Right.” Rhys could not parse out where this was headed. If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how his heart automatically picked up the pace every time Jack drew near, he could probably figure it out. But alas.

“So, then how does this,” Jack began, splaying his hands over his chest, “change anything?”

Rhys tore his eyes from Jack’s muscular forearms. It was a good look on him, having the sleeves rolled up with Hyperion yellow peeking out from beneath the white dress shirt.

“How does it not? The second I pushed that button, there was a shift in control that I’m not unwilling to trust, but unable to thanks to the complete breakdown of it from last time.” 

Jack hummed as he stopped in front of Rhys. “I could kill you, if I wanted to.” His fingers came up and pressed on Rhys’ jaw. He complied, tilting his head so that his neck felt bared, even as he stiffened a little. 

“And after, there’d be some resistance, sure, but I’d raze it to the ground and rule this place by nightfall.” Jack’s fingertips brushed over the patchwork of bite marks and bruises over his tattoo. “Which is, what, in like three hours?” 

“It is,” Rhys managed.

“I want you to stop acting like that’s a possibility. We both know why it’s not,” Jack said, wrapping his hand around his throat. 

Even though he didn’t say it, Rhys could feel it in his touch.

_ Mine. _

This was what Rhys had wanted, to find a way in. But somewhere along the way, it became about more than righting a wrong or securing a way forward for them both.

Jack was the only person in the universe who saw him for exactly what he was, and there was no point in pretending that wasn’t what Rhys wanted more than anything.

“You’re right,” he finally said, smirking faintly. “We do.”

Jack grinned, big and wide, then his arm was around him, and Rhys was being steered toward his desk. “Good! Then sit down and eat and quit being so  _ tense. _ I meant what I said about you slipping down the drain. You look like a toothpick.” 

Rhys tried to ignore how his neck still felt warm, and failed. It was as if Jack’s touch alone was exacting. 

“I am not that thin.” 

“You really are,” Jack countered, guiding him by the shoulders into the chair with a creak of leather. Rhys obliged, because he was starving, and not that he would ever admit it aloud, but Jack was right. 

“And do you not own any other clothes?” Instead of returning to his desk, Jack pulled himself up to sit on Rhys’. “For once, you actually have a few days off, and you’re still wearing a tie. Sort of.” 

“I have other clothes,” Rhys said, then dismissed the holo-screens that had activated by his proximity. “But this is what I like wearing. Not to—”

Jack swatted his hands away, halting his efforts at fixing his tie, and handed him the fork. 

Rhys shot him a glare, even as he accepted it. “Not to mention, I don’t technically have time off anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Your schedule is still empty.” 

He sighed and took a bite. Already, Rhys could feel it. How he would fracture under everything he was expected to maintain and produce for both sides.

“I obviously have work to do now that Patrick and Lorelei know my excuse was bullshit. Plus, they want to put forth their input on seizing control of Hyperion, and I will hear them out.” 

Jack was silent for a moment. 

“Why?”

“Because they’re professionals who identify and nullify threats by any means necessary?” Rhys said, confused by how Jack was confused by this. It was not a secret that where Jack trusted nothing, choosing only to have another plan ready. One after another. Rhys surrounded himself with a core of capable, ambitious, yet dedicated people like himself he could trust with his empire and secrets.

Jack gave an irritated sigh. “No. I mean, why do they want to?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I asked.” 

“You have an idea, I’m sure.” His voice was familiar. Clipped. 

Rhys took a tentative sip of coffee. “Lorelei will love the challenge and the fact that it’ll have a tangible effect on the universe. Simulations bore her unless they’re near impossible or rehashing what we could have done differently with Maliwan. And Patrick’s brain doesn’t do anything but generate plans twenty-four hours a day. Plus, they would both put a bullet in Lattimore themselves if given the chance.”

He thought he could actually hear Jack’s jaw clench.

“It’s more than that.”

“Of course, it is.” 

Jack stared silently out the window for a long time; Rhys ate. 

At length, he said: “I’m going with you.” 

“Did you really think I didn’t already know that?” 

“No,” Jack replied stiffly.

Rhys tried not to smile, but the corners of his lips turned up anyway. In response, Jack smirked, almost involuntarily it seemed, and lightly shoved at Rhys’ shoulder before walking off. 

He chuckled. “You want the silver lining of all this?” 

“Sure, cupcake. Enlighten me.”

“We’ll have more leeway with your freedom around here,” Rhys told him. “It’ll be restricted to my area of the building if we’re not together, but Patrick has already notified security and the kitchen staff that I have a guest of the ‘utmost importance.’”

Jack fell back into his chair. “So, you mean I’ll be able to order my own pretzels? That is great news!”

“That is what you’re going to focus on?” Rhys asked. “Not the possibility of the gun range or the simple fact you won’t be stuck on this floor the whole time?”

“I wanted them, and you let me down.” 

“I didn’t order them because I really don’t understand why you would want to eat something you don’t even like.”

He shrugged as if this was something obvious Rhys was simply unable to grasp and thus not worth attempting to explain. 

Rhys rolled his eyes up, then gestured at his holo-screen, which flickered to life. If that was what Jack wanted, no matter; he just had no interest in doing that skag-stick-poking thing, and that was what this sort of felt like. With his access adjusted, Jack, having the peculiar talent of making  _ everything  _ sound like a threat, had a bag of twisted pretzel sticks delivered within five minutes. Then a handful of them stuffed into his mouth within five seconds.

Immediately, Jack’s features twisted with revolt. Rhys imagined it was the face he would have made himself had he eaten ratch or allowed one to use his mouth as a restroom. 

“Ugh.  _ Gross,” _ Jack complained, still chewing.

“Was it everything you’d hoped it’d be?” Rhys asked dryly.

“Yeah. The only thing that’d make it better would be airlocking the idiot that gave these to me,” Jack said wistfully.

“Dream big, Jack.”

A slow grin crept across Jack’s face.

His skin prickled, goosebumps rising. Nothing had changed about it, not really. It was the same smile Jack had given him hundreds of times, but Rhys could not shake the unmistakable sense that something behind it had shifted. 

“I always do, kitten,” he said, voice low. 

Rhys took a deep breath and smiled back, because it was what he was supposed to do, then pushed his plate aside.

He had work to do, after all.

_______________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed as it always did. Except, it was one thing dealing with Jack’s moods when he was a hologram and quite another as an actual physical presence. 

When he unexpectedly swung a one-eighty, Rhys could practically see the manic energy pouring off him in waves as he paced around the room. It was more than a tad intimidating, and managing it felt like trying to safely contain something highly explosive and unstable. Still, Rhys did so to the best of his ability. He figured familiarity was a better option than anything else he could possibly offer. 

His interference seemed expected at least, and as soon as Jack’s emotional state evened back out, it was like nothing had happened. Jack went back to being preoccupied with his plans or absorbed in thought, and Rhys used the time to aggressively get ahead on work. He suspected his availability would be more limited than initially anticipated. 

About an hour before they were to meet with Lorelei and Patrick, Rhys declared he was hungry. It was not a total lie, but he could only imagine the levels of hangry Jack was capable of, and the less there was to set him off, the better. 

Jack ordered pizza. Specifically, something with obscene amounts of meat. The kitchen sent up a ‘cured meat overload,’ cheese sticks, and banana pepper Caesar salads. 

When it was time to go, Jack suggested he take a cheese stick along ‘for later.’ 

Rhys politely declined. 

He ended up with one in the pocket of his vest anyway. 

As opposed to the conference room, they met in the command center. A place Rhys had not stepped foot in since the war with Maliwan ended. Instead of dreadnaught movements and surveillance footage of Meridian and Atlas Dominion, the holo-screens lining the walls displayed satellite imagery of Eos and Hyperion HQ interspersed with Atlas tech schematics. The photo of Katagawa picking his nose was still up, dead center at the far end of the room, and Rhys snorted involuntarily at the sight of it. 

Lorelei winked from where she was leaning back in one of the comfortable chairs and pushed forward a cup of coffee. 

Just one. 

The slight was intentional, obviously, so Rhys gave it to Jack and poured some for himself from the provided thermos. Then Patrick, who was not programmed for preamble, said: “Our cooperation is not about you. It is about safeguarding Atlas, and ultimately, Rhys.” 

“What a revelation.” Jack stated it so plainly Rhys had to fight a smile. Then Jack plopped down and rolled out the chair next to him. 

“Over here, cupcake,” he said, pointing. 

Irritation flashed in Patrick’s eyes. “On the surface, it is a win-win situation for us. Either Lattimore dies, or you do, and at the present moment, I would very much prefer it be you.”

Rhys’ ass made it all the way into the chair, but his coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth. 

“However, that would be counterproductive since it would ultimately do Rhys more harm than good. So, our only option is to ensure you succeed and hope you recognize what it is exactly that he has given you and what it is worth.”

Jack did not respond, he just sort of stared Patrick down as if reconsidering him. Or maybe just considering him for the first time. Beyond that, there was no outward sign he had successfully gotten under Jack’s skin, but to Rhys, the restraint was apparent. 

Clearing his throat, Rhys set the cup down. His mouth opened before he knew what to say. 

It was easy to sit in judgment and look at Jack with condescending righteousness. Rhys was guilty of it himself in the past, but within everyone was a darkness. Something that, when tested, made them capable of things they never believed themselves capable of. 

When people looked at Jack, that was all that they saw. It was all Jack wanted them to see. Rhys knew that now. But more importantly, Jack had seen that darkness within Rhys long before he even knew it existed. 

How many innocents went down with the Zanara? Rhys did not set out to kill hundreds of civilians that day. It had been a purely selfish, petty retaliation to make himself feel better, and yet, because of that, those people were dead. 

Because of him, his mother was dead. 

He closed his mouth. 

“Rhys,” Jack said, then there was a hand on his thigh. Rhys tensed up but immediately made a conscious effort to ease his posture. 

“If you want a drink, take a damn drink. Patton and I—“

“Patrick,” his PA snapped, cutting Jack off. 

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t care. Payton and I are only— Wait. What is it exactly that we’re doing?” 

“I am negotiating with you,” Patrick said. “And half of negotiation is dealing with people on their level.”

Jack gave a barking laugh and appeared amused even as his grip tightened on Rhys’ leg. “You are nowhere fucking  _ near _ my level, asshole.” 

A shadow fell over Lorelei’s face. The dangerous look she got when she really didn’t like something. Then just as quickly, it passed. 

“That is more than apparent,” Patrick said, teeth flashing. “After all of the time and money and personal welfare he sank into you, you should have thanked him, but did you? No, you did not. You chose to put your hands on him, which is—  _ unacceptable.” _

As Patrick spoke, Jack’s forearm tensed, bringing out the tendons in it, and the hold he had on Rhys’ thigh was bordering on painful.

Rhys took that drink of coffee because it was right about then that he realized at this rate, with this degree of escalation, it might be his last. 

“What’s really pissing you off?” Jack asked. “The fact I put my hands on him, and he  _ liked it—“ _

Here, Rhys choked on said coffee.

“Or that he put his on me?”

“It’s that you do not deserve—”

When Jack reacted, so did Rhys. He didn’t even think about it. He just inserted himself between them and placed his palms on Jack’s chest almost instinctively. 

Hands locked around his wrists, and Rhys half-expected Jack to fling him across the room in his fury. But he hadn’t seemed inclined to hurt Rhys yet, and he did not seem inclined to now. 

The way Jack’s shoulders bunched up screamed restraint. 

“Jack,” he said softly, soothingly. “Don’t choose this over everything else.” 

Then his jaw clenched and fingers twitched as Jack’s grip turned bruising. Rhys swallowed nervously. Jack’s eyes were dark with something angrier and far more embittered than Rhys was used to.

“They are just a means to an end. You have other options. You always do,” he tried again. “Ones that won’t— change things.” Rhys wasn’t going to say outright,  _ we’re in this together, until you decide we’re not. _

Jack’s mouth twisted slightly, and his grip loosened. “You’re always so—  _ pragmatic.” _ His voice was carefully controlled, but the undercurrent of rage was still present. 

“One of us has to be,” Rhys replied without irony. 

His hand moved forward. Jack’s thumb brushed along the split in Rhys’ lip before slapping the side of his face almost fondly. Then Jack sat back down. Rhys did as well, albeit a little shakily. 

“So, are we done with this dick measuring contest so we can actually do something worth my fucking time?” Jack leaned back in the chair, legs canted out with confidence. 

There was silence for a moment, then he said: “Okay, that’s good because it wouldn’t be a contest at all.” 

Silence again.

Patrick and Lorelei looked like they were trying to process nonsense. Rhys could hardly blame them. He couldn’t believe that had worked himself. The very notion of being able to counteract the effect outside forces had on Jack made him feel delusional. 

Maybe he was having a stroke.

“I’m referring to my cock being bigger than either of yours. Clearly, Blue has a bigger dick than Phillip, and hers is metaphorical for the time being, and Rhys is, like, average? But I gotta admit, not a bad little package overall. Seven out of ten, would touch again.”

Nope, definitely not having a stroke because that was entirely too in character for Jack. 

Lorelei laughed, then stopped laughing and said: “Fuck. We are so screwed.”

Rhys sighed and watched Patrick stand straighter and unnecessarily tighten the knot of his tie. He seemed mildly annoyed as if frustrated by an amateur’s unsubtle technique. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We are all here, let’s get this over with.” 

As always, Patrick’s intel was excellent, impeccably thorough, and organized. With a few clicks on his ECHO device, an interactive projection of the Hyperion HQ’s blueprints flickered to life in the middle of the table. Long ago, Rhys stopped marveling at Patrick’s uncanny ability to make things happen. 

Once on task, the hostility seemed to abate, and Rhys let himself relax marginally. Jack’s focus was razor-edged when it came to things he found of import. It was what made him unfailing in anything and everything, and thus part of the reason he inspired such terror. However, the situation was still a far cry from ideal. 

His cooperativeness felt highly conditional. Patrick had set the terms for the information at the very beginning, and it was a display of power Jack clearly resented. When he spoke, which wasn’t often, choosing to be more of an observer than an active participant, the words were laced with implication and condescension. The mutual dislike was palatable, but Lorelei and Patrick did not once appear to be the least bit intimidated by Jack, and that was supremely refreshing.

Lorelei left her sidearm on the table, in plain sight and within reach, exactly where it had appeared during Jack’s outburst. And Patrick treated Jack like a pest he was obliged to endure. Efficiently presenting the plethora of information to Rhys, not Jack, in a way that was reminiscent of the war. 

When finished, since Jack was the definition of a ‘real asshole,’ he said: “Yeah, well, at least now I know why you almost lost the war, Rhysie.” He stood up. “Transfer the data so I can review it without a side of asshole. I want a burrito.”

And on that note, Jack left. The remaining instability in the air went along with him. Rhys stared after him, wondering at the cause of the tension in his shoulders. Then he turned his attention to Lorelei and Patrick. 

“I am really sorry, guys. I know that doesn’t make it better but—“ 

Lorelei frowned and said, “Did he mean your burrito or a food burrito?” at the same time Patrick asked, “How do you tolerate him?” 

Patrick looked down at her and let out an annoyed breath; she shrugged. 

“I can see how; he’s delightful,” Lorelei said. 

“Definitely a food burrito,” Rhys said, determined to not let the assumption it had been more than what it really was continue. “And he’s not that bad.” In another life, in a slightly shifted set of circumstances, Jack would have fit right in with this merry band of assholes. 

Patrick lifted his ECHO device. “I’ll take your word for it.”

_ Data transfer to private server from P. Fernsby: 8.34GB _

“He’ll be here a couple of weeks, at most, and then it’ll be like this never happened. I can promise you that.”

Lorelei laughed; Patrick gritted his teeth, and said: “Rhys, I apologize for the following, but you were right. You are a useful tool. You are the linchpin keeping everything from falling apart right now.”

Rhys had barely nodded in resignation before he continued.

“Another way to put it is to say that things will never be the same,” Patrick said, giving him a long look. “If you did not matter to him, I would be dead by now.”

“You wouldn’t,” Lorelei said. “Jack would.” 

Rhys met the concern in their gaze and wondered to himself if, in some way, for Jack, that might be accurate. That in light of everything he had lost, maybe he just didn’t know how to handle someone slipping through his defensive walls of cruelty and malice. If that was true, perhaps Jack’s sense of ownership, how he saw Rhys as his possession to influence and pressure as he saw fit, was his way of regaining control over a situation where he really had none. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well and handling their specific level of lockdown/quarantine as best as possible. Between work and now homeschooling my kids, writing is low on the priority list. However, it is basically one of my only forms of escape left, so hopefully, updates won’t slow down too much. 
> 
> Stay safe ♥️


	12. An Easier Parallel to Accept**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this update took *so long*. Hopefully, the chapter length makes up for it in some way, but the whole lockdown/working/homeschooling thing has induced levels of stress & anxiety I didn't even know was humanly possible. It sucks wanting to be creative, but at the end of the day, having no energy to do anything for yourself other than sleep, watch Netflix, or play SDV.

Telling Vaughn went about as well as expected. It went something like this:

“So, uh, I know I never really told you what happened, exactly, after Helios went down, but—”

“Bro, I’ve never expected you to relive something you barely survived. I get why you tried to— leave it all in the past.”

His gaze flicked away from the concerned frown on Vaughn’s face. Rhys could practically feel the reflected sunlight through the holo-screen. Hot and unrelenting from systems away. It had taken time, but he accepted Vaughn’s forgiveness for what it was. For himself, however, it was just another one of those decisions he had to live with. 

“I also get why you couldn’t,” Vaughn continued after he had been quiet for a moment too long. “Shit like that, how could it not become a part of you?”

Absently, Rhys nodded. It had been so much more than that. It had defined him, shaped him into something new. A type of self-preservation perhaps as the agony in his head quieted to pain and gave him space to remember. 

A cold sensation of dread would unfurl in the pit of his stomach every time he thought about those final moments before it all went dark. It was the worst when something would catch the corner of his eye. There would be a spike of adrenaline, of what was almost panic when Rhys turned to find nothing there. Even months later, when he was fully healed, the hurt and fear in Jack’s eyes would come back to him in stunning clarity when he tried to relax for too long.

Rhys had just wanted to pretend his life only started after waking post-op. He didn’t want to contend with the past, so he buried himself in work to cope. If he was being productive, Rhys could turn his mind off; he felt able to breathe. It allowed him to forget and convince himself he was the person he used to believe he was. 

But there had been ripples at the edges of his new life, betraying the lie. Sometimes, when he had looked at his mother, Rhys would find her expression strained as she watched him. He had refused to let himself notice. It was gone in an instant anyway, a practiced smile already firmly in place, and Rhys always had one of his own ready to return.

He gave Vaughn one of those smiles. “Speaking from experience?”

“Yeah. I am,” Vaughn said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Almost dying here a bazillion times made me realize you only live once, and no one has any idea how long that will be. You just have to hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”

“Seems like you would want to enjoy it someplace else where you wouldn’t almost die a bazillion more times.” When Rhys said this, Vaughn grinned, a gesture he automatically and sincerely returned.

“Nah. Leaving would have just been another way of letting this place defeat me, so there wasn’t really a choice.” 

“I’ve never looked at it like that before,” Rhys admitted a tad reluctantly.

“You can stop trying to apologize any day now.”

“I didn’t apologize.”

“You totally did! It’s all in your tone, and as far as I’m concerned, there’s never been anything to forgive.” Vaughn seemed to hesitate slightly before adding: “What you went through was awful. Really, really awful. Then afterward, there was no way for you to reverse anything or rise above it. You did what you needed to not let that break you.”

“I think,” Rhys began, pausing to choose his words carefully. “That I managed to rise above it in the sense that it’s not the first thing people associate with me anymore.”

Vaughn looked at him for a moment. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it must have been like trying to move on from something you can’t ever really put behind you.”

He shrugged. “The past doesn’t die, especially when you won’t let it. I mean, I couldn’t, because even after everyt—” Then hands were on his shoulders, scaring the absolute  _ shit _ out of him. Rhys actually jumped, launching the pen he had been nervously fiddling with across the room even as he realized his mistake and snapped: “What the fuck, Jack?”

He enjoyed doing that, moving up behind Rhys silently all the time. Usually, he could feel Jack there. It was almost unsettling how incredibly and acutely attuned to his moods and movements he was. But, Rhys was currently Dealing With Shit and would have greatly appreciated if Jack had just  _ not. _

“Easy, cupcake,” he said, and Rhys could hear the smile in his voice. Clearly pleased with the reaction he so often deprived him of. “I know how much you miss me when I’m gone for too long, but you don’t need to yell at me about it.” 

“Goddamnit,” Rhys sighed and put his face in his hands.

Jack briefly squeezed his shoulders before moving a hand to the nape of his neck and bracing himself on the table. Leaning over Rhys, so he was fully in view. 

“Heya Grizzly Adams, still freakishly buff? Nice cape.”

Rhys peeked at Vaughn through his fingers. The expression on his face would have been hilarious, Rhys thought, if this was not  _ at all _ how he wanted this to go. 

“Hm. I think the feed froze. Where’s that four-eyed asshole of yours when you need him? I guess I’ll have to reset it myself. Oh, wait! He blinked. Awesome. Probably just stunned him with my hotness. Yo, bandit life.” Here, Jack paused to whistle sharply, and Rhys winced. “Did Rhysie get around to asking you about Butt Stallion yet?”

In the following seconds, Rhys hoped, rather desperately, that it was actually possible to die of mortification. When he, unfortunately, did not, he dropped his arms and said: “I was working my way up to that.” 

“That’s good to know,” Vaughn said, looking a little less like he was about to have a stroke. 

Jack drew his thumb lightly along Rhys’ neck. “Glad I could help streamline things.” 

“Yep. Thanks a lot, Jack. Super helpful.”

“Any time, kitten,” he replied, then smacked a loud kiss against Rhys’ port. “We’ll have sushi for dinner.” 

With that, Jack, King of ‘Doing Whatever The Fuck He Wants,’ (may he forever reign) turned and walked out of the conference room, and Rhys let his head fall forward into the table with a, “Sounds good.” 

There was a horribly long silence that was broken by Vaughn snorting a sudden, slightly hysterical sounding burst of laughter. 

“Bro, what the fuck?”

Rhys straightened and threw his hands up. “Dude, I know! I flippin’ know! But I couldn’t bring myself to kill him, kill him, and when my goddamn genius, ratch janitor found a way to reverse things, I fired him up in this little cube thing to do just that. At least now, I can apologize, and you’ll have to acknowledge it. So—  _ I’m sorry, _ I didn’t know how to tell you any of that.”

“You just fucking say it!” Vaughn cried emphatically. “You say: ‘Hey, bro, I found a way to resurrect  _ Handsome Jack,  _ and I did it because regret is a terrible thing to live with.’ And did you just say ratch janitor?”

_ “Yes.” _

“Dude. Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t!” Rhys replied indignantly. “He did. He was just a normal guy when we hired him, but it’s not like growing a clone body to cram someone’s consciousness into is a quick or easy thing to do. I imagine he chose ratch because, at the time, we had plenty of those horrible things running around.”

Vaughn nodded thoughtfully like he was doing some minor calculations in his head. “Well, then I guess I should say thank you for not doing that because Handsome Ratch sounds like something that would give your nightmares nightmares.”

“I know, right? And then, as if I needed a portal to hell itself, Jack said he’d eat my face off if I did that.” 

“You would have deserved it.”

Rhys slumped back in the chair and sighed. “I probably still do,” he said. “Why in the universe are you still talking to me?” 

“Because you’re still the same person I grew up with,” Vaughn answered easily. 

The corner of Rhys’ mouth twitched. “I suppose that’s true, and I’ve just never wanted to accept it. Everything I have ever done, including dragging your ass to Pandora, has about one thing: myself. Only the names of the dead have changed.”

“That’s a super healthy way of looking at it,” Vaughn said, raising his eyebrows. 

“How else am I supposed to look at it?”

“The worst of us suffer the least because, in order to have regret, you need to have a conscience and Rhys… you’ve suffered a lot more than anyone should have ever had to.” Vaughn’s expression turned troubled. “Sometimes doing the right thing isn’t the easy thing, and that goes for bringing Jack back too. I don’t believe for a second that you would have done it if you thought him incapable of that suffering.” 

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, and suddenly feeling self-conscious, glanced out the window. That suffering drove all the inconsistencies of Jack’s behavior. It was another thing they shared.

Another thing that just manifested differently. 

Sometimes Rhys wished it had been a miscalculation on his part. Just misplaced guilt that Jack would have eradicated by being the soulless villain everyone believed him to be. That would have been an easier parallel to accept. 

But now, Rhys was stuck trying to reconcile the part of himself that had risked life and limb to do the right thing. Who would travel to the ends of the universe to protect his friends or defy the laws of nature to bring one of them back. With the person that craved power and chased greatness and felt a cold satisfaction when Jack had been brought to his knees. 

He didn’t know if doing that was possible. 

“Plus, it’s clear you guys, like, kissed and made up.” Vaughn idly scratched his beard as the entire screen shook again with a distant rumble. “Literally, based on how your hand just shot up to your neck to, you know, hide something that isn’t even there anymore.” 

Rhys scowled, and Vaughn began to smile.

“No,” he insisted. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t know, bro. There was an awful lot of touching just now, and you’re having dinner together? That’s adorable!” Vaughn was grinning like an asshole now. Almost an exact replica of Zer0’s ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) emote. “When’s the wedding? Can I be your best man?” 

“Fuck you,” Rhys said, laughing despite himself. “It was one time, and it happened right after the transfer. Just sensory overload and I was a… convenient outlet. You should have seen him the first time he went outside.”

They had taken his shuttle down to the base to meet with Jack’s associate, but he froze just before exiting. His knuckles had turned white as he gripped the door frame. Rhys had pretended not to notice. 

“It was sort of sad.” 

“Mhm. I’m sure it was.” Vaughn crossed his arms, doing his best to keep his face passive and failing epically. “Probably almost as sad as how hard you’re denying reality right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “The reality is that we have some sort of ill-defined truce, and Jack likes pissing off Patrick as much as humanly possible. He’s learned the quickest and easiest way to do that is by touching me. Patrick was probably nearby. His office isn’t far from here,” Rhys reminded, glancing through the heavily tinted glass walls in search. 

“Oh, shit, and no one has died?” 

“No,” Rhys replied, smirking. “And since it hasn’t happened yet, I highly doubt anyone is going to.”

_______________________________________________________________________________

That had not been for a lack of trying. 

Jack was Jack; Patrick was Patrick. They were complete opposites on the outside, but at their core, composed of the same sharp intellect and eternal pride. 

Rhys recalled the few times he had seen Jack on Helios. Everyone had given him a wide berth. People flowed around him like his reputation had been a physical force field. It was a trait he and Patrick also possessed. Rhys’ was limited to his status as CEO. For the other two, however, it was something that was amplified by the specific ways in which they carried themselves. An inherent warning to those in their vicinity that they wielded power and influence in different yet equally brutally destructive ways.

In this respect, it had been pathetically easy to anticipate their strategies regarding one another. Which was to simply be themselves and let their superiority prevail. 

Rhys neutralized most of the fallout there, by treating them as he always did. Patrick did not want or need special treatment. He would have found the behavior offensive. Plus, it was apparent he thought Jack expecting to be deferred to said more about Jack than it did himself.

Beyond that, Rhys had made it a point to relax into Jack’s physical contact for his own peace of mind as much as for Patrick’s. Reminding himself to be calm and comfortable with the expectancy of what was to come until it was second nature. It had taken little to no time because Rhys realized he knew Jack better than he knew himself. The ways he moved, how he thought, and restrained himself. It was as though Jack had been branded into him. In a way, perhaps he had been as data bouncing around in his skull.

It also helped that Patrick was as supportive as he possibly could be. This was primarily shown by not provoking Jack outright and putting Rhys in, what Patrick perceived as, a precarious situation. Lorelei was of the same mindset, dialing her brashness down from a solid eleven to an eight. But that was really just a side benefit for Patrick.

He received a full respite while her focus shifted entirely to Rhys. Then she cleverly engineered each and every instance of assholery to the point where there was no doubt who the actual intended target was. Referring to Jack as HJ or Rhys’ murder husband. Having the kitchen staff provide ball-shaped snacks at each and every meeting where Jack was present. Even going so far as to have Westbay redo the targets out on the thousand-yard range, which had been a fantastic surprise. 

After the meeting with Jack’s military Commander, Blackwater, a man turned mercenary upon his death and built like a brick shithouse, Rhys had taken Jack out there. Instead of the standard Maliwan and COV targets, there had been only a single Rhys Strongfork shaped one happily waving, complete with one (1) legendary mustache. 

Rhys had let out an honest, involuntary laugh, followed up by a less honest, reflexive apology. Resetting the targets had only made it worse as Jack popped up next to him. Then the rest of the field populated with a variety of new ones. This included Patrick, ratch in lab coats, Lattimore, Death Spheres slash Jack-Balls (depending on how one looked at it), and even ones of herself alongside the usual suspects. Unsurprisingly, Jack had been displeased but chose to only exhale long and hard through his nose as Rhys struggled to get his shit under control.

Overall, it had been an… interesting ten days, though they had been worth it. Rhys had learned a few rough lessons about himself, and Patrick finally acknowledged that he and Lorelei made an incredibly efficient team. Assuming Zer0 did not shoot them all on first sight for letting Jack loose into the universe, he would probably be proud of what was basically a successful team-building exercise for the pair. 

And, hey, Lorelei even somehow found herself on the receiving end of Jack’s begrudging tolerance. He did not need her help, but apparently, Jack was not too proud to acknowledge preparations would go a lot smoother with it. Rhys appreciated that. Immensely. Because with the culmination of the war taking place on Nekrotafeyo, the three of them needed to redirect the entirety of their focus back onto Atlas.

Rhys had learned the hard way to hope for the best but to always prepare for the worst. 

The II Corps assignment on Pandora had been extended weeks ago after the assault on the cathedral that ended with Troy Calpyso’s death. Additional ships were dispatched shortly thereafter as a precautionary measure to extract allies if necessary since the planet continued on tearing itself apart. Late last night, Skywell-13 quietly went online despite not having an official test-fire, and his dreadnaughts were moved into defensive positions planetwide.

There were still plenty of things to do, but with Zer0 sending them constant updates, he would have ample warning. Allowing him to kidnap Vaughn (and Butt Stallion if she was located by then) and set everything into motion should it come to that. 

Rhys would rather not engage, if at all possible, with the Crazy Fucking Monster-Leeching Siren. Especially here at home, because he would tear the planet apart with his large cache of weaponry in the process. However, an alliance of any sort or relinquishing control of Promethea to her would be out of the question.

Patrick found this line of thought ‘most agreeable.’ 

”I’m glad,” Rhys told him as he reloaded the rifle. 

He and Patrick had been taking advantage of the rare opportunity to spend some time alone together out on the range. A much needed release of stress-energy while Jack was still off handling final preparations with Blackwater and Lorelei.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I got here, and I’ve decided I want you to be my COO.”

Patrick looked slightly annoyed like his day had just suddenly gotten knocked off schedule by exactly two point five minutes. “No.” 

Rhys smiled. He had anticipated this.

“Do not start,” Patrick insisted.

“You are already my Second-in-Command in every aspect,” Rhys started. “I trust you, implicitly.”

Patrick cocked his rifle, then dropped the bolt into the proper position. “Rhys, I appreciate where this is coming from, but the answer is no.”

“I did this by myself for a really long time because I needed to. When I hired you, I thought I just needed someone to help me keep my days straight, but how long did that last? Maybe three months? At most? Before I started offloading stuff onto you.” 

“It is my job to make things easier for you. It always has been.”

“Then take the position. Accept that you have been helping me build Atlas into what it is now,” Rhys extended his mechanical arm out in a ‘look around you’ gesture, “for years. This is not me giving you something you don’t deserve just because you are  _ my friend.  _ You have sacrificed for this company too, and this is something I want you to do for yourself. Not for me.”

Patrick let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “This is not a conversation we should be having.”

“No. Not right now, at least,” Rhys agreed because Jack was walking toward them. 

Behind him, the sun was low on the horizon, threatening to break through Skywell one final time before setting. The silence suddenly struck Rhys as somewhat eerie, as if the entire planet was holding its breath. Or maybe it was his own breath; in that moment, he was not entirely sure. 

It was hard to look away, to tear his gaze away, but Rhys did. They were similar in ways that scared him, yet at the same time also gave him peace. What he felt for Jack was not simple or complicated. It was something else, something he could not define.

Somehow, they had been able to salvage what little remained of their relationship. Jack had even become a significant aspect of his daily life. Rhys fretted about that. He did not have many people he interacted with regularly on a personal level. Having that end so abruptly, being denied the time necessary to figure it all out, presented another duality. 

It scared him. That was the truth. However, Rhys did not care to acknowledge it any more than he cared to admit that it also brought him peace.

When Jack stopped before him, he looked Rhys up and down. His expression was inscrutable, but there was a certain bracedness about him that set Rhys on edge. Jack appeared as though he expected to be struck on some quarter.

“Is everything alright?” Rhys asked.

Jack hummed and moved his chin up slightly in confirmation. 

That was not entirely accurate, Rhys could feel it. He was holding something back. Something Jack either did not want him to know or Patrick.

“Ready to go then?”

His jaw rolled slightly, rippling as Jack clenched it. “Not yet,” he said. “We need to talk.  _ Alone.” _ Then he stepped away, toward the shuttle. Rhys frowned but followed after him anyway.

“Rhys.”

He paused and looked back. “Yes?”

“I will consider it,” Patrick said, then held out his arm. 

Rhys gave him a wan smile and handed over the rifle. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, they were airborne, and Rhys observed Jack carefully. Studying his reserved, mask-like expression and the way he stared out the window. Noticed how his leg started bouncing at one point only to be stilled with visible effort. He could not pinpoint Jack’s mood, and Rhys found that slightly unsettling. 

It did not help that Jack seemed to exist on an impossibly insufficient amount of sleep. Taking the psychological trauma Rhys had caused Jack into consideration, as well as the unimaginable difficulties of switching from an inorganic existence to an organic one, his inability to sleep was not much of a revelation.

But, with Jack, he hated waiting. There was a sense of inevitability to it.

Rhys took a breath. “Did you eat?” 

“Asks the guy who forgets to eat on a regular basis.”

“I don’t forget. I just— get busy.” 

Jack finally looked at him, full in the face. “With you, those two words are synonymous.”

That hit a little closer to home than Rhys would have liked. “I ate today,” he said, drawing himself up defensively. 

“Probably only because  _ Patrick _ was around.” Jack sneered at him. “Making sure you don’t starve to death is about the only thing that asshole is good for.”

He quirked an eyebrow. Jack’s disdain for Patrick was already well established. Bringing it up was unnecessary, but it did clue Rhys into what the real issue was, namely himself. He was starting to suspect that Jack was mad at him, and he truly had no idea why. 

The cabin further darkened then as they entered his personal hangar. “What were you two fighting about?” 

Rhys gave a faint sigh. Jack could be terrifyingly observant at the most inconvenient moments. Rhys had hoped he would not have noticed this because it was not about trust between them, but truth. Jack still lied to him. It was as if he were unable to do anything else. But Rhys had learned to hear what he was really saying.

“We weren’t fighting,” Rhys told him, the ship going silent aside from the low whine of the drives beneath them. “We were disagreeing over whether he should move up and be my COO.”

Jack tilted his head back and chuckled bitterly, then abruptly disembarked; Rhys scrambled after him.

“Jack,” he said. It came out more forcefully than he otherwise would have spoken, but the whir and hum of the blast doors shutting was not exactly conducive to normal conversation. 

“Why now?” he barked, still striding toward the exit determinedly.

“It has nothing to do with you. He’s been doing the job for years now.” Rhys scowled as Jack triggered the door to slide shut in his face. He swiped his wristband.

“I don’t want to fight over this,” he continued, practically jogging to catch up. “Look, it’s been a long day for the both of us, so if you would just tell me what I fucking did this time, I’d appreciate it!”

Jack came to a grinding halt in the middle of the lobby and rounded on him. Rhys could see the conflict in his eyes. The sight of Jack restraining himself as he stared at him and weighed his options was familiar. 

“Once I put a bullet in Lattimore, all six galaxies are going to turn to you.”

Rhys could practically feel the resentment radiating from Jack. “I am more than aware of that.” 

In an instant, the past would flood into the present with such fury it would threaten everything. Who they were, what they had become, and most importantly, what they could still yet be. Break them back down into the shadows of themselves that had emerged from the wreckage of Helios.

“But we are in this together,” he reminded, slow and deliberate.

His eyes flickered and the line of his mouth tensed, but Jack nodded before continuing on to the elevator. “And what does that entail?” 

“Letting you set the narrative and hope you don’t make me regret bringing you back.”

Jack looked over at him, head tipped slightly to the right. The following silence was long and charged. 

“Now, why in the universe would you go and say a thing like that?” 

He seemed to be getting closer, or maybe it was just the fact they were confined within the glass walls of the elevator. Either way, Rhys’ heart rate started to steadily spike.

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Rhys did not know what to say to that. Or how to feel about the fact Jack still had steel in his eyes, but he seemed to be waiting, rather impatiently, for an answer. 

He could read the intention in every line of Jack’s body. The cant of his hips, the minimal distance between them. The worst part was that he was tempted. It had been years, and he hated to admit it, but Rhys sometimes thought about it late at night when he was alone in his bed. The sex would probably be phenomenal, and everyone had their preferred coping mechanisms. 

Would it be so bad to give in again? 

To help Jack in this way? 

He felt as though he was back in his office all those months ago, vacillating over whether to activate the device or not. 

The moment passed. 

As he did then, Rhys gave in. He nodded, and Jack touched him, finally, grabbing him by the throat and kissing him so hard it felt like an assault. Bruising, harsh press of lips and Jack’s teeth on his tongue and the side of his jaw. One hand slid down over his chest, untucking his shirt to get at the small of his back.

As the elevator slowed, Rhys slid his fingers out of Jack’s hair and fumbled to activate the retinal scanner. Jack grabbed his wrist, stabilizing it, and a second later, Jack was behind him. He was pressing his own erection into Rhys’ ass, his mouth at his ear. 

“The first time you talked back to me, I thought about how much I wanted to fuck that  _ sweet _ little mouth of yours.” 

For a second, Rhys was blinded by the vision of himself on his knees with Jack’s cock in his mouth. Then he was really blinded as his eye was pinpointed with a beam of red.

The scanner gave a happy beep of approval. 

The elevator began to slowly rise again.

“Do you like the sound of that, kitten?” Jack breathed, palming Rhys through his slacks. 

He rubbed slowly against the hardening length, and Rhys could only nod; it was easier than trying to talk right now. 

“Then lead the way.” 

Jack released him abruptly, and Rhys stumbled forward into the large entryway. He walked through his apartment without looking back; he could hear Jack discarding layers, dropping them carelessly as they crossed the hardwood floor. Jack was only a few steps behind him, Rhys could feel him there, but his footsteps were silent. 

When they reached his bedroom, Rhys flipped on the lights before shrugging out of his vest and pulling off his holster. Again, Jack moved up behind him. Rhys looked up but avoided his reflection in the mirror. It would be a little too easy to see himself as Jack might see him. Too scrawny. Too uncomfortable in his own skin. 

Not good enough. 

He looked at Jack instead. The corner of his mouth quirked. 

“I can hear you thinking from here,” he said.

“Funny, I can’t hear any thoughts coming from you at all,” Rhys replied flatly.

Jack grinned wickedly, closed a hand around his wrist and spun Rhys around. Then Jack was kissing him and pressing in on him. He kissed Rhys until he was breathless, hands clutching at the expensive silk of Jack’s shirt, sliding restlessly through his hair.

Eventually, Jack gave up on the buttons and ripped Rhys’ shirt open the rest of the way. In the process, he was slammed back into his dresser, and there was the unmistakable sound of something falling. Glass breaking. And Rhys himself felt like he might be about to shatter.

Like a star, Jack was beautiful and ice-cold from afar, but when the space was bridged, the heat of him was endless. He wanted to struggle against it, wanted to embrace it, couldn’t choose. 

Jack’s hand began to map the length of Rhys’ spine; the other tugged his head back by the hair. As Jack bit and licked up the column of his throat, Rhys moaned, and finally chose, reaching for Jack’s belt and zipper. 

Later, Rhys would not be able to quite recall how he ended up sprawled out on his bed, naked, and looking up at Jack upside down. But he remembered, vividly, how unamused he had been when Jack asked: “What’s the magic word?” 

Then Jack smiled at him, slowly, eyes bright and with a hint of teeth. “Aw, kitten, don’t be like that. The quicker you say it, the quicker we get to the part of this where I touch you.”

Rhys gritted his teeth and seriously considered telling Jack to fuck off, but he wouldn’t mean it. And Jack would know. So, he swallowed the little piece of himself that had any dignity left, and said: “Please.” Thinking that if there was a way to drown in someone else’s will, he would fucking find it.

“You’re so  _ good,”  _ Jack said, drawing Rhys’ head back a little with a finger hooked under his chin. “How someone hasn’t snatched you up and made you their little toy by now, I’ll never fucking know.”

“I’ve been… busy,” Rhys replied, feeling unbalanced as his gaze was now perfectly angled to watch Jack lazily stoke himself. “With work.”

Jack chuckled. “Imagine that,” he said, then placed a knee onto the bed, leaning over him. 

Rhys opened his mouth, finding himself oddly grateful to have something to  _ do.  _ Jack slid in fluidly and without much force. But then he paused, wrapping a possessive hand around Rhys’ throat and exhaled with actual  _ satisfaction.  _

“So good,” Jack whispered. “I had a feeling about you.”

The muscles in his shoulders bunched and shifted, and his thighs flexed as Jack’s hand followed the lines of his tattoo and skimmed across his stomach. Rhys swallowed around Jack, sliding his tongue over the smooth skin, and he pushed a little deeper. Then Jack’s thumb lightly slid over the knob of his hip bone, a strangely intimate touch. 

Finally, Jack started to move.

It was not nearly as frantic or rough as Rhys had been expecting. He wasn’t about to complain, mainly because Jack leaned over farther to mouth at his hip. Soft at first, and then with a little bite of teeth. Rhys let a noise of encouragement escape him as fingers curled around his cock and began to stroke him. 

Jack started pushing deeper into his mouth, in increments at first, then more and more. It elicited a desperate sound that came from low in Rhys’ throat as he struggled to handle it, and Jack groaned. 

“You can do it, Rhysie,” Jack murmured. “You can do anything.”

The kick of heat he got from that hit him hard, made him flush right down to his chest. Made his cock twitch in Jack’s hand. Then there was a swipe of tongue on the side of his shaft, followed by the scrape of  _ teeth.  _

Christ.

Rhys would have gasped, but his mouth was too full, so he only managed a stifled, thin sound instead. It was too much. 

Everything was too much. 

Jack dragging his own pleasure out of Rhys’ body and giving it in return was everything he had imagined but the words ‘too much‘ kept floating around in his head. 

“Perfect,” Jack breathed. “And you’re all mine.”

The pressure welled. Jack was saying something to him, but all he could hear was the urging of it, telling him to do something, telling him to—

Rhys came in Jack’s waiting hand. A wave of pleasure, his back arching, and his toes curling, managing to breathe,  _ somehow,  _ and swallow as Jack came too. His whole body tightening as he made a sound like Rhys had gutted him. 

After a beat, Jack withdrew, and Rhys laid there, panting. He felt like he had no place in his mind to put the intensity of the experience. 

He wasn’t sure where it was meant to go. 

Then Rhys blinked as Jack used his slacks to wipe down his stomach. He laughed one sharp exhalation through a disbelieving smile. 

“What is up with you ruining my clothes?”

“It’s not like you can’t afford new ones,” he said, tossing them aside. 

“The worst,” Rhys said. 

“You say that like I didn’t just give you a mind-blowing orgasm.” Jack smacked his hip fondly. “Scooch your cooch and kill the lights.”

Rhys righted himself in the bed, slightly baffled by Jack not immediately leaving, and pulled the sheet over himself before linking up with his lighting controls. As he did so, Jack got settled. It was ridiculous, lying in the same bed together, but Jack passed out within minutes. 

Even asleep, he seemed restless, and for a long time, Rhys laid there, trying to work out where things were headed before giving up and detaching his arm. It still took forever for him to follow after Jack. He could feel Jack’s body heat radiating across the distance, and at one point, Jack flung out one arm, his fingers curling a little as they came to rest on Rhys’ skin.

As gently as he could, Rhys lifted his hand and placed it back by Jack’s side. 

When Rhys woke, he had no idea just how long he had slept. Whether it had only been minutes or hours or if it was technically morning or still night. He only knew the sky outside was dark and crystal clear, the stars faded in and out as Skywell blotted out large swaths of the heavens. 

And he was alone. 

He did not think about how Jack destroyed everything he touched. 

He did not think about how Jack had ruined him for anyone else. 

He simply got up and went to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed a couple of you lovely readers saw [my commission from PukaoArt on Twitter](https://twitter.com/PukaoArt/status/1246614714085498882) ~~& I may have had *a moment* when I read the lovely things said about this fic~~. It’s absolutely perfect ~~especially Patrick omg~~ & I’m only not sharing it here yet because once I saw the draft, I felt like it needed a companion Jack piece to stick alongside Rhys. Something separate yet together to sort of round out the feel of the fic so far, if that makes sense. Once I have that too, then I’ll link both pieces in here for everyone to enjoy. ♥️
> 
>  **update 11.18.20** : Jugum was just a;sdlkjfa;lsdjf so kind & put together [an amazing comic of the elevator scene](https://twitter.com/JugumPuppet/status/1328808880705400832?s=20) from this chapter. Seriously, everyone, go love on her. 😭💛


	13. Delicate Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs I listed to A LotTM: [Conquer](https://open.spotify.com/track/2lJLErHqplsFXeJ6xeGqkW?si=Zaun9K84RdKVh87h_cjvkw) (RIVVRS), [Oceans](https://open.spotify.com/track/5eXnC2B5RU5fAhfwvV2ABD?si=IXUlnPgJTQGMtRAGVsp1AQ) (Seafret), & [Woke The Fuck Up](https://open.spotify.com/track/6o8JwI0CDEYdf8pKyK2wmR?si=CsCkho5SSriLfEWFRxtyJg) (Brian B.)
> 
> Thanks to whoever sent me the lovely anon on Tumblr checking up on me! I appreciated it! ♥️ I am doing a bit better since I answered that :D

_ Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits of the world. _

Jack’s world was limitless. 

It took him thirty-five hours to put a bullet in Lattimore and reclaim his throne. Twenty-nine of that was travel time alone.

Rhys’ world had limits, and within five minutes of the news breaking, many of them were tested.

_ You’re fine,  _ he thought to himself.  _ Everything will be fine.  _ Even though he clearly was not, and there was no guarantee it would be. Rhys wanted so badly to cast it all away with a shrug and a smile like none of it meant anything, and he despised the fact he couldn’t. 

He looked over at Patrick, whose eyes were locked onto the feeds they were getting. Five now, because another intergalactic news station had decided to run with the story. Captions scrolled along the bottom of the holo-screens, but they all said very little on the development itself. No one had access to headquarters outside of the Hyperion Truth Broadcasting Network, and that had gone dark after Jack’s announcement.

Severely restricting the press was done by each of the Supreme Eight. Political spinning was messy and tedious. It was much easier to control the flow of information to maintain their set image as well as further safeguard against espionage. Hyperion was the only one who had taken it to the extreme with their own network. However, HTBN was no longer the propaganda machine it once was. Lattimore had even eased Jack’s restrictions from ‘not on your life dum-dum’ to ‘at the risk of mortal peril.’ Meaning reporters were no longer shot out of the sky upon entering Eos’ atmosphere but vaporized when they got ‘too close’ to HQ. A distance that changed unpredictability based on the security lead’s whims and discouraged them from approaching at all. 

Even so, with such a monumental turn of events taking place, it was apparently time for these people to take absurd risks. Given how close they were getting to perimeter turrets, it was almost as if they had forgotten who exactly Handsome Jack was. Not to mention, the impression the sharp, angular buildings would leave upon viewers was nullified by the lack of screen time. Most of that was being dedicated to Jack’s brief resurgence, himself, and Helios Fallen, just as predicted. 

But if they had no new information, it was difficult for them to do much else other than fill the silence with what they did know. Or speculate. Though it already seemed generally accepted as fact that Lattimore had brought this upon himself, and he definitely had.

Prior to the destruction of Helios, Hyperion had always been a diversified superpower. Setting the standard in weapons, robotics, and intelligence gathering as well as pushing innovation farther than others thought was acceptable. It was something the Three Founders had established as they emerged from the (now Second to) Last Corporate War and took advantage of the fall of centralized government. It was something every successor had been determined to uphold and build upon. Up until Lattimore. 

He never had any interest in achieving greatness. Lattimore just wanted it for himself. So, when the opportunity presented itself, he had taken Jack’s and tried to reshape it into his own. From there, it had been only a matter of time before a true professional sought to solve Hyperion’s real problem with a well-placed bullet. There was something about Jack doing it that was rather poetic.

Hollow-point rounds (Jack’s preferred ammunition) were as devastating as they were effective. They expanded and tore a hole through whatever they hit. A straight shot on target was instantly lethal. A fact that had been perfectly demonstrated by Lattimore’s live execution. He had simply looked up, disturbed by someone entering his office and welcomed one directly into his left eye.

A death so quick it was practically a mitigating circumstance. 

No fear. No pain. No suffering.

Which made Lattimore luckier than Rhys. 

He had paid a far steeper price. Was still paying it. For a long time, Rhys had believed Jack was the betrayer, but he had been the one that set everything off by making the wrong choice. By choosing Jack’s greatness and not  _ Jack.  _ He knew this now— knew it irrevocably— just as he knew nobody woke up one day and found themselves at the top. 

Success was about how far one was prepared to go and how quickly. Being relentless. Never taking no for an answer. 

Sacrifice. 

When a picture of his mother finally popped up on one of the holo-screens, Rhys smirked bitterly to himself, then sighed out loud. 

Patrick gave him an apologetic look, but Rhys waved him off. 

He understood why this was necessary. The procedures on stuff like this were straightforward. Everyone was watching— PR, analysts, military— an entire mechanism that had been designed to see Rhys through anything. There was no avoiding it. One did not remain at the top by being careless. 

Rhys’ involvement, it was not classified in any way, it simply never was. The handful of people who knew the truth were left with limited options because of it. All they could do was what they were supposed to: let the machine do its job so they could do theirs. 

He was suddenly struck by the privilege he had in calling Patrick and Lorelei his friends and colleagues. Just sitting there, watching them do nothing but absorb and process information because that was what the best people did at a time like this. They worked for one of the biggest names in the most cutthroat industry in the universe. For them, this was just another day, just another unprecedented situation, one more thing to overcome and add to the list.

But for Rhys, this was something else.

It was only possible to be betrayed by someone you trusted. Which meant Rhys had confidence in the connection he shared with Jack to some degree. Or, deep down, he too knew that he was fallen. That his guilt had been significant enough to risk everything as he chased after something unattainable. Like the Eridians, seeking out creatures and questions better left unanswered, and finding out too late the full extent of their error.

Rhys took a deep breath and held it briefly. “Why would anyone eat anything made by Torgue?”

Patrick shrugged; Lorelei continued working at her ECHO device, seemingly to have forgotten anyone else was in the room. In the command center, they could keep track of the whole galaxy, and that was what she was trying to do while he and Patrick were otherwise preoccupied. 

But then, all of a sudden, Mr. Torgue was yelling at them.

_ “HOLY F*CKSH*T! I AM SO GODDAMN HUNGRY! And we here at the Torgue Corporation sincerely think that HUNGER IS F*CKING TERRIBLE!!” _

“It’s the guitar riffs and explosions that sell it for me,” Lorelei said, finally looking up.

At this point, any other reply from her would have been concerning. Rhys didn’t laugh, but he did smile. 

“I am not sure how I didn’t see that coming,” Patrick said, appearing slightly disturbed. 

She gestured at the screen. “I mean, look at that.”

A box of cereal emerged from a spectacular explosion.

_ “DON’T STARVE! EAT SPLODEO’S! MEEDLYMEEDLYMOWMOWWWWOWOWOW!” _

“Plus, hunger  _ is  _ fucking terrible,” she added. “Let’s have dinner sent up.”

“I should eat,” Rhys said, unsure if he was feeling ill with stress or from skipping lunch, but eating would prevent it from being both later on. 

His HUD indicated that hours had passed since Jack’s takeover. Whatever the next step in his process had been or whatever resistance he was meeting, it was taking time. 

_ “The previous message from Mister Torgue did not reflect the opinions of the Torgue Corporation itself. Ingest Splodeo’s at your own risk.” _

Patrick glanced at his wristband. “Yes, you should. I’ll have a salmon avocado salad; simple vinaigrette.”

“Same for me,” said Rhys. 

Lorelei went back to her ECHO device. “Will do.”

What followed was a discussion on whether fish from Tethys was actually superior to fish caught anywhere else in the universe. This was an ongoing personal debate between them. Eventually, Rhys realized that Patrick was attempting to turn his mind off. 

It made no sense to put energy into a situation when there might not be one at all. Rhys had been doing this long enough to know that the stress would come in its own good time and that there was no point in welcoming it too soon. However, everything about this was immensely personal and complicated in ways Rhys could not begin to map out. 

But the discussion was shelved for another day when all of the feeds glitched simultaneously. Then Jack appeared. 

He was grinning, but there was a subtle element of over-precision to it. That deep-seated anger simmering just below the surface. Still, Rhys immediately felt a wave of relief on the grounds that the worst part of all this— the waiting— was over. 

“Heeeeeey kiddos! Did ya miss me?” A wink. “Of course, you did! Which is the main reason why I hijacked these airwaves. The other reason is I haven’t been gone  _ that  _ long. You people know how this works.”

The false smile seamlessly melded into one far more honest. One that carried a palpable sense of power. Deadly assurance. 

“Perhaps everyone needs a couple of  _ visual _ reminders,” he said before turning around as the camera panned back. Jack perched his hands on his hips, making his shoulders seem that much broader, and regarded the scene in front of him with a deep breath. 

It turned out Jack could, in fact, string someone up by their intestines. Lattimore hung rather decoratively from his own giant statue in the atrium with a small pile of bodies underneath him. 

“The only thing this piece of garbage didn’t utterly fuck up in my absence were the sweet ass lasers surrounding this place.” Jack turned back around, smiling in that slow way that revealed his incisors. “So, yeah…” 

The feed switched to live security footage of the small conglomeration of press out front. 

And so began the rapid destruction of human life. 

When it was all over, Jack did not bother making another appearance. He had made his point. The feeds were simply released, revealing that the stations had already resumed their regularly scheduled programming. 

Rhys took a slow, steady breath. He should not be thankful for what Jack had just done, but he was. Though his benefit was incidental, several problems, including ones Rhys had no control over whatsoever for years, had been solved at once.

“Lorelei,” Patrick said, a hint of warning in his tone. 

Rhys looked over to find a box of Splodeo’s at her elbow and a spoon full of cereal halfway to her mouth. After a beat, it started to slowly continue its journey upward.

“Lorelei. No.”

The spoon stopped again. 

“They literally have a legal disclaimer about ea—”

She stuffed the spoon into her mouth, and Patrick sighed. 

“I’m just glad you—” A death sphere of the sugary and potentially explosive variety fell out of her mouth. “Oops.” 

Lorelei picked it up off the table and popped it back in. “I’m just glad to know you actually care about my well being.”

“Of course, I care about your well being. We are still facing another round of this war here at home.” 

“I love you, too.”

Rhys casually took a drink of water to hide his smile, and Patrick considered them both with annoyed disdain. It was unclear what irritated Patrick more in that moment. Being called out on CaringTM or that Lorelei continued to munch away at something potentially lethal. 

“That is not what I said,” Patrick insisted. 

“Okay.” Lorelei scooped up another spoonful. 

“Fine,” he clipped, and she once again paused. “You are well aware that I think most of what you do is largely moronic.” 

Patrick gave Lorelei a pointed look, which she returned without blinking.

“That said, when Rhys is adamant about something, I do not overly question him for a reason. It requires tremendous attention to detail and devotion to achieve what he has here. This alliance with Jack even appears to be a strategic choice for Atlas in the long run. But, none of that would matter if we lost you—” he rubbed his forehead. “The odds of us moving forward, successfully, would be considerably longer. To put it mildly.”

Lorelei dropped the spoon back into the bowl and pushed it aside. Then leaned over the table to gank Patrick’s dinner. “In exchange for that moving declaration of friendship, I will spare you my potential ‘death by Splodeo’s.’”

Patrick grimaced faintly. “I imagine this is where I should be thankful.” 

“You would have given a great ‘death by Splodeo’s’ eulogy,” Rhys interjected, unconcerned but sympathetic. If Lorelei willingly ate ratch, she had an indestructible stomach of steel.

“He really would have.”

Patrick pressed his lips into a flat line. “Noted,” he said, then set about resetting the holo-screens to their previous state. “Order me another salad, at least. We still have plenty of work to do.”

“Will do BFF. It is a good salad,” Lorelei said, mouth half-full. “Also, Rhys, is this a good time or a bad time to mention Zer0 is on his way back?”

His mouth quirked as he chewed. “It’s fine,” Rhys said. “He sent me a direct message earlier, and if he’s notifying us, he’s not on his way back to kill me. So, as far as I’m concerned, it’s just more good news.”

_______________________________________________________________________________

The next afternoon, Zer0 returned. There were no fumbled explanations. No definitive response either, other than the one they both knew deep down inside but could not bring themselves to voice. That things had fundamentally changed. 

Of course, their reunion would not be simple. That had been a given. But Rhys had not expected it to be so immediately complex. The silence seemed too loud. Oppressive without the relative ease Rhys was accustomed to. 

Then the war officially ended, and it became almost unbearable. A sort of quiet chaos brought on by the loss of so many facets that dominated the past year.

He was not entirely sure how he felt about it other than oddly… empty.

After about a week, Rhys began to understand the underlying issue was not Zer0 nor the loose return to ‘normalcy,’ but the accumulation of some small, seemingly insignificant changes. The absence of a familiar touch. Returning to an empty office. Eating absurdly late at the end of the day— alone. Something just as destructive as the catastrophic events that had thrown his life off-kilter twice now. 

It caused a further displacement of his sense of self as if that was not already utterly screwed up beyond measure. 

No amount of reasoning or rationalization would erase the fact that a part of Rhys had been betraying himself this entire time. The part that wanted space to live, to have companionship, or something more than days piled one on top of the other without clear meaning or purpose. It was the kind of thing that he knew would always remain out of his range but for which he still felt a sort of natural longing all the same.

Rhys idly fingered one of the many violently colored sticky notes adorning his desk. 

_ Eat, ya dipshit,  _ it said. 

Other than this one, none of them said anything useful, but at the time, throwing them away had been pointless. It had only made twice as many appear. Rhys’ fault, really, for off-handedly mentioning his hatred of paper to Jack months ago. Still, he found it somewhat remarkable that Jack had gone out of his way to antagonize him in even this. 

Lifting the note from his desk, he discovered another one of the same color stuck to the back of it.

_ In case you’re here and just did that vanishing thing, there’s some Jack approved snacks in the cabinet. _

These snacks were pretzels and a moldy cheese stick. 

Rhys sighed. 

It was not that he had expected Jack to call or maintain any sort of regular contact. It was that the most treacherous secrets were the ones people kept from themselves, and Rhys had been forced to acknowledge his. 

But he always had a choice. If there was one thing Rhys was certain of, it was that. He would not dwell. He refused to— once again— feel like he was someone easily left behind. 

That he currently did was a personal failing.

Using the sticky notes, Rhys extracted the mold stick from the drawer and dropped it into the trash. Then set about removing the remaining traces of Jack from his life.

_______________________________________________________________________________

With the emptiness neatly tucked away and ignored, Rhys moved forward like the pragmatic sort that he was. Each day that passed, he got his bearings back a little more. 

The meetings with department heads and liaisons and lawyers were near-constant, even with Patrick handling some of the towering workload on his own. But that was not all he did. Since Patrick was nothing but thorough, he looked at the stock market data surrounding the entire mess. He looked at what went right, what went wrong, and then, he started to plan. It was the first sign Rhys picked up on that he was actually considering the promotion. 

The COO position itself was something of an anomaly in this day and age. It had been an errant thought brought on by extreme stress and fatigue. Still, it quickly grew roots as Rhys seriously began to think about the practical applications. He got things done by sheer force of will. But Rhys was at the stage where he was not above admitting that he had been exhausted in three different ways, where he had previously thought there were only two.

Catching up on sleep had helped correct that. However, having Patrick at his back in an official capacity would keep the worst of his self-destructive habits at bay. Or, at the very least, prevent them from reaching peak levels and ultimately threatening his own legacy ever again. 

Still, Rhys could not bring himself regret any of it, even if the inconclusiveness continued to grate on him. Picking up on this, and perhaps finally releasing some of their own pent up aggression on the matter, Lorelei and Patrick employed some of the most masterful demonstrations of passive-aggressiveness Rhys had ever seen. 

His approach regarding the upheaval at Hyperion had been entirely hands-off. Wearing masks to hide behind and yet reveal was second nature to Rhys. All it had taken was giving a  _ smile _ that held absolutely no warmth and all the viciousness that befitted the Titan of Strength, and everyone left him alone about it. Patrick, on the other hand, did not  _ do  _ bullshit and disliked people in general. So, when asked, it had not been much of a surprise that he told them precisely what he thought.

PR’s overview of the incident had been equal parts ‘lol’ and ‘oh shit.’ However, contending with potential political fallout and deflecting attention to more beneficial avenues was commonplace for them. Delicate balance was soon restored, and it had been Patrick’s signature on the approval line for the caseloads upon caseloads of champagne sent to the department. Their celebration was punctuated by also rolling out some new memes. Rhys had no proof that was intentional on Patrick’s end, but he suspected nonetheless.

Lorelei, for her part, memorialized Rhys’ mustache out on base. A to-scale replica that hovered at the correct height to align perfectly with Rhys’ face. Little mustache trinkets were also handed out to every soldier who had fought in the war and distributed to allies. One was even sent to Wainwright Jakobs in solidarity. 

PR had been delighted. 

More memes were released. 

For someone who presented a blank faceplate ninety-eight percent of the time, Zer0 seemed baffled by their behavior as he continued to try to absorb and process the situation. 

For Rhys, the silence stopped resonating.

Legal was fast-tracking dozens of patents, Marketing was leaking rumors, Weapons R&D was booming— literally, and more so than usual. And Raesler was pissed Jack had not allowed her to take some full-body scans before leaving. For science, as was everything that she did. While Rhys could sympathize, the endeavor would have to simply remain ‘incomplete’ for her.

“It was the least he could have done in return,” she said. 

“You could always send him a message through the normal channels,” Rhys supplied, watching with a vague sort of horrified fascination as Terry and Glenn rearranged one of the bays in the lower level. Their feet, claw things, and hunchbacked, lab coat wearing bodies should not be able to do, like… useful tasks.

“He might consider it.”

“Yes, he might, if  _ you _ asked,” Raesler continued, undeterred. “He has to know you are the only person in the universe that can stand him for any amount of time.”

Terry waved enthusiastically. 

Rhys lifted his prosthetic in return, thought, then said: “I’ve started working on something. It will take me some time to get the programming exactly how I want, given all of the system upgrades we’ve done. But I want to be able to interface more fluidly with Atlas Dominion. Lorelei has picked up on some intel that hints at Maliwan still being an issue.”

“And you want to offload the device programming.” Raesler’s voice was more heavily-tinged with regret than he’d expected. 

Rhys let his indifferent mask fall away with a quiet sigh. “It doesn’t serve a purpose anymore.”

“Fuck him,” Raesler said, dropping the pretenses. 

He blinked, and turned toward her, eyebrows raised. He had never heard her curse before, and no one had brought up his relationship with Jack, or whatever it had actually been, outright, since the day before he left.

She stood a little straighter. “If this will help get him out of your head, just let me know when you’re ready for me to review the data.”

“Thanks, Pen,” he said, smiling faintly. “Sorry about your files.”

“It’s fine.”

Rhys wanted to reply to that, wanted to tell her it wasn’t. Not after everything she had done for both of them. Even if he didn’t know how to say it, it was enough for her to read in his eyes.

She merely shook her head and waved him off. “Go,” she said. “You have a schedule to keep. I’ll send you a comprehensive report on the projects that wonderful new budget is funding.”

“Sounds good,” he said before heading on out because that schedule did not include being accosted by her ratch assistants, and they were headed toward the stairs. Plus, if he stayed too much longer, Rhys risked arriving late for his dinner meeting with Patrick.

That schedule also did not include an awkward elevator ride with Zer0. But when it appeared and seemed to proudly enter ‘presentation mode’ before the doors slid open, there was not much Rhys could do. Zer0 emphasized this line of thought with an emphatic: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.

Zer0 went back to the HUD on his ECHO device, and Rhys surveyed himself in the semi-reflection of the glass walls as they began to ascend. His tie was half-undone and skewed, hair a tad ruffled. As he worked at smoothing out his appearance, the elevator came to an abrupt stop in between floors. A motion he felt in the pit of his stomach. 

Rhys finished up tightening the knot of his tie. There was no turning back now. “Well, that’s not ominous or anything,” he remarked.

This was met with an equally ominous ** >:-] ** emoji as Zer0 stared him down. But then it flashed and flickered and a  **LOL** then a **JK** popped up in rapid succession.

“Surely, you know I / Would’ve killed you by now if / I was going to.”

Yes, Rhys knew, but death would be preferable to the innumerable things that Zer0 could say right now. The security recordings were not expunged. Not even that last elevator ride he had taken with Jack. It was all just made ultra super highly-classified and set aside in a nice little package because Rhys never intended to hide any of it from him. He also never intended to point out that Zer0 was not an exception to the rule: no one could be entirely objective or dispassionate. 

Biases would always factor into the way people saw and interacted with the world around them.

“And surely, you know that’s not my concern,” Rhys replied.

Zer0 hummed then handed over his rifle. “In this, I have found / No purchase and no solace / And no solution.” 

Rhys accepted the weapon somewhat reluctantly. Character was written into every inch of the gun. It smelled like oil and the slightly charred scent of ozone. There was a story behind every scratch, dedication written into each modified part… It was what made the gun beautiful. It was what made it Zer0’s. 

And he was returning it. 

“I understand,” Rhys said.

His faceplate flashed a **WTF** and a **NO** , then Zer0 said: “Dark Wolf:  _ Pensez-vous / Que l’hiver sera rude?  _ A / Paradox of fate.”

Rhys smiled. It felt odd on his face, but it felt real too. Then he handed back the counterpart to his personal shield— ALOPEX:  _ You should probably put your bandit hat on now.—  _ the uncatchable fox of legend. 

Zer0 holstered the rifle, and they began to ascend. Rhys found himself thinking, rather selfishly, about how sick he was of pretending everything was all right when it technically was. Especially now. 

But then, within five seconds of reaching the conference room, Rhys decided everything was not fine. 

There was a banner with glitter. 

“It’s been taken / Care of. You two are not as / Subtle as you think.” 

There was sushi and sake. 

“It was Lorelei’s idea,” Patrick said, looking distinctly relieved while she looked quite the opposite beside him.

There were cookies shaped like Atlas logos. 

_ Incoming call: Handsome Jackass _

Rhys felt a nearly irresistible urge to burst out laughing. “Patrick, please tell me there’s a reason Jack would be calling me right now.”

Lorelei’s and Patrick’s expressions flopped. Then he handed over a $100 bill. 

“Are you two serious right now?” Rhys asked; Zer0 contributed his usual, very supportive **LOL**. 

“He’s totally a ‘wait a few weeks and make you feel like a piece of shit’ kind of guy,” Lorelei defended. 

Rhys sighed. He hadn’t had enough caffeine to deal with this.

At all.

Stepping out of the room, he answered. “Jack?”

“Hay, Rhysie!”

“Uh… What’s up?”

“I just fired the board—  _ ha—  _ I just opened the door, shot the director between the eyes, and tossed that stupid ass gun in there before locking them in. You know, I really,  _ really  _ hate that gun, but right before it started jumping around and exploding and shit, it went:  _ ‘The end is comin’, and it’s handsome, baby!’  _ And like, how perfect was that?”

Jack gave another laugh. 

“I might hang it on the wall right next to my finally complete two-mile-long todo list because hoooooly shit, this place was a dumpster fire. You were  _ not _ joking about those statues,” Jack said. “And look, cupcake, as much as I love staring at the Hyperion logo because, y’know, it’s  _ mine,  _ I didn’t have to fucking call you to do that.”

For a moment, Rhys didn’t do anything; didn’t say anything. It should have been fine. It was always only supposed to be about making amends. But, he felt betrayed. 

Again.

It did not matter why. 

He felt torn between a desire to hang up and welcome that war it would probably trigger with open arms, and hearing Jack out. Because for whatever reason, he wasn’t pushing despite the sharp undercurrent of impatience that had been in his voice.

Perhaps, Jack only needed something, and once Rhys fulfilled his purpose, he would be shelved again for later. 

Perhaps, it would help put things into perspective. 

“Alright,” he said. “Give me a moment.”

Down the hall, in the command center, Rhys sat and transferred the call. His handheld was an option, but he would rather not. 

Jack appeared on the holo-screen as it activated. He was sitting in a leather chair, arms crossed with some blood spatter over his left shoulder and neck, which was not exactly a surprise nor an abnormal look for him. That he was still wearing the wristband Rhys had given him was a surprise, however. It, at least, explained how Jack had been able to contact him directly.

He eyed Rhys for a moment. “You look like shit.” 

The corner of Rhys’ mouth ticked up. 

Typical. 

“You look perfectly fine,” he said. 

Jack hummed in confirmation. “Of course, I do, but why are you in there? I thought the war was over.”

“It is, for the most part. There might be some lingering issues with Maliwan, but that’s being looked into,” Rhys admitted. “The conference room was just occupied.”

“So was mine.”

Despite himself, Rhys smiled. He looked up at Jack, and their eyes met. Then it happened again. 

Everything faded away, and it was just them.

Jack smirked faintly. “What have you been up to, kitten?” 

Rhys gave a smooth shrug. “Just… readjusting. Thank you, by the way, for letting my people out.”

“Well, you know, except for that one, so kudos to you for getting over those murder hangups.” 

“That was not one of my people,” Rhys said, quirking an eyebrow. “He was too close to Lattimore as you obviously figured out when you vetted everyone. It was easier to just pay him and let Lattimore feel like he was playing with the big kids.” 

Jack’s lips curled with pleasure, but then his wristband went off. His mouth slanted with discontent at whatever scrolled across the screen.

“Fucking  _ morons,”  _ he said. “I gotta go, kitten, but I’ll call you later. Alright?” 

“Sure,” Rhys said, not believing him at all. 

But Jack did. 

Often.

And for no apparent reason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) That first line is a quote from Arthur Schopenhauer. Cliche of me, I know.
> 
> (2) The gun/shield naming situation is a mash up of The Fantastic Mr. Fox & Greek mythology ~~(blame quarantine brain)~~.  
>   
> The Teumessian Fox was destined to never be caught & Lailaps was a magical dog destined to always catch its quarry. Zeus, faced with a paradox of fate, turned the two beasts into stone. The pair were cast into the stars as Canis Major and Minor. And Alopex is a taxonomic synonym for the arctic fox.
> 
> (3) Since this couldn’t be a more fitting chapter to drop the commissions from [Pukao](https://pukao.carrd.co/) into, [here they are compiled together](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hXfbr6nJnhbvE8dYGBQBho0GzS1r8JnD/view?usp=sharing).


	14. Determined to Damn Himself**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s inspo winners: [Pepper Tea](https://open.spotify.com/track/5zNP5wF5xqzZZj2U1XKXTx?si=XutDksw1Tx6Cx5stvXjOnQ) (Bellevue Days, seriously *this song* 😫👌), [Black Madonna](https://open.spotify.com/track/4Y6GIje3GErVRIq1Ff5BJq?si=Msoqz5xJSwiDwjPIIuoRIg) (Cage The Elephant) & [Put Your Money On Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/0SaEmR2rdtfsZawPjMYkWg?si=oJHRQhGsRmyBSODejyU0OA) (Arcade Fire).
> 
> I’d also like to present this shitty gif edit I made for Hartlynk but felt the need to share with everyone:  
> 

_ “What would you even say you are to him? What benefit are you providing?” _

These were questions Rhys asked himself often enough, and because of that, rational sense told him that he should not feel this level of… attachment. 

Sure, that last night together, it hadn’t been just something physical. It had been Rhys reacting to someone who  _ saw _ him and accepted him all the same. Who understood the dark world he had descended into. Someone who had forgiven him for the unforgivable. It was both as simple and as convoluted as that. And when Jack left without a word, well, it hadn’t been much of a shock to his system.  That cold, calculating exterior was a part of who Jack was. 

It was what was underneath that was the issue. 

Rhys had a life before him and had always expected to return to it. The crest of feeling miserable, again, had been an unfortunate accompaniment to that, but Rhys told himself he did not really miss  _ Jack.  _ Just the companionship. And there were plenty of ways to cope with that. He had work and people appreciative of his ‘actual worth’ as Patrick once phrased it. 

However, during the quiet hours in bed, the one he had stupidly let Jack into, the truth slammed into Rhys with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Rhys thought of him, no matter how hard he had tried not to. 

Jack was complicated and conflicted, but more importantly, he had allowed Rhys to see that. The fact that he was unable to disregard its significance felt cruelly unjust. The fact that Rhys still craved him anyway had felt the worst of all because he never wanted to go near Jack again. 

Seeing him would suck every time. Jack had occupied too many roles in Rhys’ life for it not to. 

Enemy. Steadfast friend. Fallen idol. Lover. 

Jack was not someone who made him feel the best nor the happiest nor the safest, but he was someone who made Rhys feel  _ the most. _ He understood Rhys in a way that no one else ever had. In a way that no one else ever could. So, when Jack came back into his life as abruptly as he had left, Rhys found himself simultaneously relieved and resentful. Then to make it even more difficult, Jack had obsessively set to work tearing down the fragile walls Rhys had pieced back together in his absence. 

Every time they spoke, Rhys could feel them breaking a little more. In the end, there hadn’t been much he could do about it other than let them fall. 

Rhys could not keep Jack out; he was already in. 

“Rhys…”

“I don’t know,” he snapped because he didn’t. He didn’t know what Jack wanted. Him. In some way, if Rhys were to take some of the things Jack had said in the past in a more literal sense. 

_ I might miss you. _

_ We’re in this together.  _

_ You’re mine.  _

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, briefly pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lorelei was only trying to look out for him, but he just wanted to stop thinking about what might happen next. 

He looked down at the holo-tablet—  _ Talk to me, Rhysie.  _ Then he watched the I-bar patiently blink in and out for a moment. 

“I just— I don’t know what I am to him anymore, and I hate that.” 

“Sometimes we’re just the collateral damage in someone else’s war against themselves, and that’s it.”

“I would’ve accepted that by now if he had just wanted something else out of me, but it’s been weeks.” He only sounded slightly bitter. “Like you said, what benefit am I providing at this point beyond the one thing I’ve refused to consider this entire time?”

Lorelei pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything. 

“There is another possibility you seem to be refusing to consider,” she finally replied after a long pause. “Zer0 thinks he’s just in it for the long game.”

“I know.” 

_ Revenge, long-lasting / And motivating. It makes / Him appear loyal. _

“Do you agree with that?” Rhys inquired. 

“If I hadn’t seen him around you firsthand, I would.” She stood then as if to leave. “Even so, that war against himself, it’s one he’s never going to stop fighting. He can’t.” 

“You always have a choice,” Rhys insisted; the words coming automatically, something that he repeated to himself so often lately that it had become like a mantra. 

“You do.” Lorelei plopped down onto the sofa next to him, and before Rhys could reply, pulled him into a tight hug.

He sighed, and wrapped his arms around her for a minute.

“I get you want some sort of resolution in this,” she said as she pulled back. “But I swear to god, Rhys, if he makes the wrong choice again, you’re done, and we’ll deal with the consequences. You go to war for the people you care about, not put them through hell.” 

“I think I’d prefer it if you just shot him,” he admitted. 

“That’s Plan A. Why else do you think I’m tagging along?” 

The smile Rhys gave Lorelei was involuntary. It had been  _ hard _ convincing them to let him go to Eos. Of course, he could have ignored the protocols designed for his security, pulled rank, and gone. But that would have been choosing Jack over three of the most important constants left in his life, and Rhys had refused to do it. No matter how much he wanted even a sliver of clarification, he was not that determined to damn himself. 

Still, Rhys appreciated Jack did not bother with some bullshit, flimsy excuse. He had simply said ‘come see what I’ve done with the place,’ and for whatever reason, expected Rhys to come. Like immediately. However, it had taken a few days to determine this would ultimately be beneficial for himself before Rhys set to work. If there was one thing he was good at, it was succeeding at something against improbable odds. 

“Because you missed his sunny disposition?” he offered. 

“Damn, Rhys.” Lorelei was staring at him seriously now. “You must really love assholes if that’s how you see him. I’m going to have to step up my game.”

“Shut up,” Rhys said, then he started laughing before he could stop himself. Lorelei’s laugh followed close behind. 

He suddenly didn’t feel so adrift. Lorelei’s presence was a weapon as much as it was a shield. It was undoubtedly why her coming along for this trip had been a condition. She was just as adept at wearing masks and playing the game as Rhys. The difference between them being Lorelei was uncompromising. Between failing and shooting someone in the back of the head, there was just no question which she would rather do.

“Never,” she said. “You’d miss it too much. Obviously.”

Rhys snorted. “Thank you. I think.”

“Anytime,” she said. Then after a beat, added: “You need to get some sleep. This is a dangerous game you’re playing. Only Jack can see the board right now. And you’ll play it a lot better if you’re not exhausted.”

“I know,” he said. 

She smiled a little and squeezed his metal forearm. There was a vague sense of pressure, a feature built into the prosthetic to correct what would otherwise be a blind spot in his defenses. It was a weirdly comforting sensation. 

People tended to avoid his prosthetic altogether because they found it awkward to handle on the assumption it lacked sensory capabilities. As most robotics did. And that was an assumption Rhys did not care to correct. His arm was an asset, but also a personal vulnerability.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“‘Night,” he replied even if there was no such thing as day and night in the vacuum of space. But, like on Promethea, it was easy enough to find an internal rhythm to compensate for this as they traveled between star systems. 

The point was, Rhys was acutely aware that it was pushing 11:45 standard when the doors to his quarters shut behind him. Still, he swiped through the screens until he came across the flight details. He slid his finger against the haptic interface until he entered split-view. 

_ Updated ETA is looking like 15:10 local. _

Rhys studied the words for a few seconds, then hit send. Almost immediately, the holo-tablet pinged with a reply.

He suspected that Jack was chronically sleep deprived even if he always looked perfectly put together. Running off of anger and caffeine until he simply crashed. Rhys could always tell when this occurred because out of left field, Jack would spend most of their conversation glaring at him with a type of refined brutality displayed in the way he’d restrain himself. But then the next time they’d speak, Jack would be less on edge. Not so overbearing. And on a good day, generally laid back.

_ In a hurry to see me? _

_ Fast ship is all.  _

_ Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better, cupcake. Hit my coms when you reach my sector, I’d hate to accidentally shoot you out of the sky. _

Rhys didn’t allow himself to read into that. He was tired of trying to dissect Jack’s motivations and meanings. 

_ Will do.  _

Before detaching his arm and crawling into bed, he adjusted the lighting controls. Blacking out the viewports, and with them, the light-trails reminding him where he was headed and why he was going. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

Eos, the dawn of greatness, was a planet that had launched thousands of ideas and helped shape the universe into what it was today. It burned brighter than the stars in the center of its system, blue and green and vibrant. Something was familiar about it, something calming, but Rhys could not say what made it so.

The hum of the drive core beneath his feet shifted and they began their entry. 

He listened in from the on board command center while Lorelei handled approach communications herself on deck. It was a necessity given the stealth tech had been activated when they reached Hyperion’s sector and would remain on until landfall was made. Quite simply, neither he nor Jack wanted his presence leaked to the general public. 

Jack had even arranged for him to land at his personal dock. A platform located midway up the tallest spire. Beyond it, in the distance, buildings, tall and distinctly angular, made from the same white metal and glass as Hyperion headquarters, emerged from the rolling hills. The planet was almost idyllic. As if the wars waged here were just a story. Or perhaps, they were just unable to leave a lasting mark on the birthplace of ‘The High One.’ 

The sky shimmered faintly as the network of shields surrounding HQ fell versus opening a window for them to pass. 

Rhys stared in confusion. It was— excessive. 

This sentiment was reflected in the pause of Lorelei’s orders as she adjusted trajectory to account for atmospheric drag. Then abandoned them altogether to simply relay approach coordinates. 

Landing Coeus had always been smooth, but the planet’s mild climate lent itself to making it near seamless. There was, however, a small degree of turbulence within Rhys as he prepared to disembark. He spoke with Jack nearly every day and yet felt as if he had completely forgotten how to interact with the man over the last several hours.

Rhys braced himself. He gathered up all the disquiet and pushed it away until he felt almost resolute about it. Jack had asked him to come. Rhys came. Whatever happened, happened. 

Plain and simple. 

He took a deep breath and started forward as the stairs slid into place.

Jack was already striding toward him. Their eyes locked, and he grinned. It was one of his deeply unsettling knife-edge smiles. More predatory than happy. Still, Rhys couldn’t help but tentatively smile back, and Jack winked. 

“Come here, kiddo, I have to fix this shit,” he said, reaching for Rhys’ tie. “Call it a favor.” 

“Sure, Jack, I’ll indulge your mother henning.”

He chuckled darkly. “Cute. Reeeeeal cute,” Jack said, voice low. Then he slid a hand under Rhys’ vest to tug at his holster. 

Above them, the sky flashed violet.

“So, what was that about?” Rhys asked. 

Jack flicked his wrist dismissively before slinging an arm around his shoulders and guiding him toward HQ. Rhys was struck by his scent, sharp, crisp cologne with faint traces of ink on his skin. Exactly how his sheets had smelled when he woke up alone. 

Rhys clenched his jaw and glanced away. 

“I’ve been scanning the sector since you called trying to get a read on that ship of yours. The sensors here are stronger, but I still couldn’t pick it up. Thought removing some interference might clue me in on how to start cracking that tech.” 

“And?” 

“Don’t you worry, pumpkin. I’ll figure it out. All I have to do is ask, and you’ll come running,” Jack said, giving Rhys a sidelong look.

He scoffed slightly. “Well, if that’s what this is about, I guess I should be glad Lorelei decided to stay on board with the crew while we’re here.”

“God, Rhys, relax. I was just joking.” Jack stopped and squeezed at his shoulder. Then frowned. “Why is Blue here?” 

“Why do you think?” 

There was a long pause where Jack stared at him piercingly. Rhys studied the empty space just to the left of him for several seconds before hesitantly meeting Jack’s gaze. Their reunion felt more heavily loaded with everything that now existed between them than Rhys anticipated. All the things left unspoken weighing it down even more. 

“And you, why are you here?” Jack asked. 

“I don’t know,” Rhys admitted. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” 

His mouth twisted, then he swiveled toward the door. Jack swiped his wristband, a thick metal cuff of Atlas design, but void of any markings indicating it as such. Or ‘friendship bracelet’ as he had referred to it in the past. Rhys had assumed Jack meant it sarcastically, like the Friendship Gulag, but now… 

Anyway, a biometric scanner was activated. 

Detecting Rhys’ presence, and overall lack of clearance, a turret began to digistruct. Rhys started to back the fuck away as the sound filled his ears. His shield would only be able to handle maybe thirty seconds of heavy artillery before—

Jack’s arm shot out and grabbed his prosthetic. “Yeah, yeah, he’s alright,” he grumbled, already punching in a code. 

The digistruct process suspended, and the door fwished open. There was another moment of Jack searching his face, his expression carefully shuttered, and Rhys stared back. 

“Forgot about that.” It almost sounded like an apology. 

“Right.” Rhys nodded sharply. “It happens,” he added, even if it most definitely never did while Jack had been on Promethea. 

He glanced behind him, trying to calm his heart. His ECHOeye showed him Lorelei had the tracker system activated on her rifle. He nodded again, and after a beat, she lowered it. 

“Well,” Rhys said, forcing himself to smile faintly. “Shall we?” 

Whatever Jack might be feeling was still carefully concealed, but his eyes—

“Damn straight, kitten,” Jack murmured, finally releasing his prosthetic to snake an arm back around him. 

Rhys was ushered into a large, open lobby. Dark marble floors, chrome, and glass with Hyperion Yellow accents. The building seemed to be designed to funnel in the natural light from Eos’ twin stars. In the areas additional lighting was needed, due to the suns’ positioning, spherical pendant fixtures put off a damn good imitation of sunlight. 

“So, like, before you start with all that  _ bullshit _ about me being vain again—  _ Quit fucking staring, Karen.” _

The woman sitting behind the large desk quickly dropped her gaze. 

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Is her name really Karen?” 

“I have no idea. She just does the secretarial shit. When I decide she doesn’t suck as much as the last one, maybe I’ll ask.”

“How the hell do you hire people?”

The corner of Jack's mouth ticked up. “Y’know what? I’m proud of you,” he said. “You don’t care about how I fired the last one. You just care about where this one came from.” 

“I’m well informed on how you fire people,” Rhys allowed dryly. “You called to tell me all about it one time.” 

“Yeah, well, when it’s not worth my time. They get fired the normal way. Same way with being hired.” 

The double doors before them slid open, and they exited Jack’s wing. 

“And how’s that?”

“I took a page out of your book and got myself a PA. Like an actual one. I used to just use the position as an exercise in ‘learning your goddamn place in the universe’ before airlocking them—  _ ha— _ the guy totally knows. He looks like he wants to piss his pants ninety-eight percent of the time.” 

“Never change, Jack,” Rhys said, smiling. 

Jack’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Anyway. We’re getting waaaaaay off-topic, and the last thing I want to do is think about how much I wanted to eviscerate Patrice.”

“I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutu—“

“Shut up,” Jack said, clamping a hand over his mouth. “I let you keep him out of the goodness of my incredibly generous heart. Don’t disrespect that.”

Despite himself, Rhys laughed and shoved Jack’s hand away. There was something about the way he fell into such easy familiarity with Jack that irked him, but he set it aside. Off into the ill-defined void between them along with everything else for the time being. 

As they came up to the railing overlooking the floors below, Jack made a broad sweeping gesture. Rhys was stunned by the sheer size of its grand interior. From their high vantage point, Rhys could see almost the entirety of HQ laid out before them. Jack’s palace sprawled over the landscape with a sort of organized chaos. Below them, two massive pure white stones, emitting a pale light, were suspended in mid air, and above, angular glass planes converged at high points, channeling the light. 

“Is this how you fire people?” Rhys wondered.

Jack took his arm away from Rhys’ shoulders. “I’ve only shoved maybe three people over it? But you’re missing the point.”

“That you’ve de-Lattimore’d the place?” 

Jack nodded, arms crossing. “Fuckers were solid gold. Melted them down to jumpstart this shithole. I mean, I made statues of myself because I was rich, just like so-oh-oooooh rich.”

“And vain,” Rhys reminded, helpfully. 

“You could use to be a little vainer,” Jack said, eyes sliding to meet Rhys’. 

He just shook his head. He had enough objectivity about his own appearance to know that was true, but having it come from Jack… 

Jack chuckled, then turned and walked off; Rhys followed. 

“As I was saying, I could throw money at whatever market I wanted. Burn it for fun. You should have seen my toilet, it was solid gold and looked like a throne.” Jack sounded wistful. 

“I’m sorry your toilet is normal now.”

“Not for too much longer. Thanks to you, I remembered I had that casino floating around out there just… sucking money, and the life, out of people.”

They stepped into the elevator, and Rhys took note of how Jack punched in the override code before activating the scanner. 

“Security was air-fucking-tight,” Jack continued. “Lattimore couldn’t touch it and just marked it down as a loss. I emptied the main accounts. Clown tits can keep the bandit infested time capsule and whatever measly scraps I left behind. But,  _ man,  _ I wish I could’ve seen the look on her face when she saw what I named the bar. I bet it was priceless.” 

Rhys shifted a bit, mildly uncomfortable with this particular topic. With the end of such a long and grueling war and the loss of Lilith came a wary acceptance of Jack’s return. It helped that outside of sending a team to reclaim The Eye of Helios (and Butt Stallion, who had just magically appeared at the wreckage the day Jack’s ships landed) Hyperion was noticeably absent from Pandora. 

It had been a massive risk notifying Jack of the heist plans. But Rhys had done so with the hopes of swaying him away from any ultra-mega homicidal anger. It had worked. Mercifully. And both sides had walked away from the ordeal more or less satisfied. 

“So, what you’re telling me, is that you’ve currently got some statues in production,” Rhys said. 

“Just a few.”

He snorted. 

“Come on, cupcake,” Jack said, putting his arm back around him as the elevator came to a stop. Presumably somewhere underground based on the sudden absence of glass. “I know how much you admire my weaponry, so I thought we’d start there after a stop by Security.” 

It was true that Rhys had an admiration for Hyperion shotguns and SMGs. Jack knew a Conference Call and an Oldridian were part of his personal collection, after all. Rhys hadn’t attempted to enter those markets on the principle of being unable to reconcile his personal preferences with what he saw as the standard he’d want to live up to. 

The tour was thorough and even included a live demonstration of the first new gun slated for release, the Brainstormer. The metal was bluish-grey, layered with shock blue designs that swirled like a storm. And finally, a little Helios trinket affixed to the top. It was a beautifully crafted weapon, and Rhys had no issue telling Jack so. His lips quirked with pleasure, and Rhys’ heart did this annoying stutter thing. 

Their time in Robotics and Tech was much shorter, but those were markets Jack was just now reviving in full. Tourism was a no go for obvious reasons, but a second Hall of Heroism did exist outside of a large ballroom. Here, Rhys was horrified to discover his picture, the one from his Hyperion badge that he had loathed with the intensity of a thousand suns, hung on the wall. The plaque underneath it read: 

_ CEO Rhys Strongfork _  
_ Reign: < 24 Hours _  
_ Status: A Quitter.  _

Rhys’ face burned with embarrassment, and Jack laughed until there were tears in his eyes. As much as he tried, Rhys couldn’t keep his lips from cracking into a smile at the sight. 

With that, the tour ended, and Jack led them back to his wing, where Rhys was introduced to his PA. A dark-haired man Jack called Buttercup like it was his name. He did, in fact, look like he wanted to wet his pants. Very, very badly. 

Still, Buttercup actually looked Jack in the eyes. Then he said: “I understand you didn’t want to be bothered with anything while Mr. Strongfork was here, but Legal sent up a few documents you should see.” And did not stutter or apologize once. Rhys was impressed and immediately understood why Jack was keeping him around. 

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ll take care of this real quick and get dinner arranged, alright?”

“Sure,” he said. 

His smile sharpened to a degree that would have been concerning if Rhys wasn’t accustomed to it by now. Then he and Buttercup walked over to a nearby office. 

While Rhys waited at reception, he thought about checking his messages. He watched Jack’s hands instead. He knew them well, watched them often when Jack was talking to someone. They were like a mirror to his mental state. When they were moving, Jack was at his calmest. It was when the frenetic energy began to overwhelm him that he began to physically restrain their movements. 

How many times had Jack touched him since he arrived? 

He couldn’t recall. The uncertainty Rhys carried along with Jack’s dominating presence were stacked against him. He felt constrained in his thoughts. 

There was only Jack. 

It turned out the documents were ‘a big fucking deal,’ and Rhys kept quiet as Jack yelled at someone over his ECHO. He wandered around Jack’s office and finally checked his messages to give him some privacy. It seemed Lorelei had kept the security mishap from Patrick and Zer0, and Jack had arranged for Coeus to relocate to the base. The move would give his people access to room and board if her pride allowed for it. Both updates were points Rhys appreciated but would wisely not mention to either individual.

Finished, he glanced over at Jack, who seemed to be wrapping things up. He was standing behind his desk, facing the large window and silhouetted by the twin suns glittering low on the horizon. It was interesting, in a sense, that Rhys found the visual somewhat awe-inspiring. Jack seemed ethereal and regal. 

Unattainable. 

He wasn’t sure how he would ever see Jack as anything less. 

Rhys averted his gaze and idly scanned the nearby table as he tried to ignore how their time together only made Rhys  _ want. _ To be more, to matter, to make all of that—  _ stop. _

Based on the coffee cups, wadded up napkins, and general debris amid the ECHOs and hand-scribbled notes, Rhys assumed this was where they’d be eating and began to clean off a space. He paused when he came across what was obviously that ‘two-mile-long’ todo list. Which was actually a few small pages taped to a chunk of butcher paper as the list kept growing. Some of the things that stuck out included:

_ ⍀ don’t kill (^all of) Rhys’ people  _  
_ ⍀ buy stock in pretzels _  
_ ⍀ eat pretzels, make stock go up _  
_ ⍀ kill ~~Patrick~~ someone and string them up decoratively to prove I can do it _  
_ ⍀ demolish all traces of dickbag imposter CEO _  
_ ⍀ nicer sheets and pillows?  _

“Someone should have taken the pen away from you,” Rhys observed as Jack came up next to him. 

“Yeah, well, you weren’t here,” he said. Then his expression flickered, a flash of familiar bitterness as Jack shoved the list aside. “So.”

And it clicked. 

Jack knew Rhys would never choose him over everything else. 

What he did not seem to realize was that Rhys had already chosen him. He had chosen Jack over himself. He had taken multiple hits from him and still traveled lightyears for another because Jack was Jack, and none of Rhys’ mistakes ever seemed like mistakes when he was near.

“I’m here now,“ Rhys told him. “I just… don’t know why.” 

He hesitated, then looked up at Jack. Rhys could not name the look on his face, no matter how familiar it seemed. He only knew that it must match the one on his.

Jack raised a hand and placed it across his throat. His thumb slid lightly along his neck, and Rhys felt his skin prickle. Everything had felt like a mask until that moment. With just the briefest flickers of something real coming through on occasion. Rhys curled his metal fingers around Jack’s forearm and took a slow breath, afraid to break the moment and more afraid not to.

“Yeah, you do,” Jack said. Then he slid his hand through the hair on the back of Rhys’ neck and pulled him into a kiss. 

It was slower, more heated than anything they had shared in the past as if Jack was savoring the feel of Rhys’ mouth against his. He hemmed Rhys in against the table, his fingers twisting and pulling at his shirt to get at the small of his back. Rhys twined himself around Jack until every inch of their bodies were touching. 

It felt like hours before they parted even enough to take a separate breath, but Jack just moved his lips to Rhys’ throat. The motions felt exploratory without the franticness of their past encounters. Eyes closing, Rhys tipped his head to the side to give him better access.

Eventually, Jack bit at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and pressed a thigh between his legs, applying pressure right where Rhys wanted it most. 

“Jack—” he mumbled, wanting more. “Please.” 

“Mmm.” Rhys felt the deep rumble of Jack’s voice as though it moved directly from his chest into his own. “Tell me what you want, kitten.”

“You,” he said. Hopeful, but not demanding. “I just— want you.” 

Based on the  _ sound _ Jack made at that, they probably would have fucked right there on the table had there been any lube. Instead, Jack wrapped an arm around Rhys’ waist, fingers digging into his ribs, and muttered: “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Jack placed his palm on a print pad built seamlessly into the nearby wall, and a hidden elevator admitted them. He rapidly tapped in a code, presented his eye for a retinal scan, pressed Rhys against the wall, and took his mouth.

He had no idea if Jack knew they’d been seen or not before the doors closed. He would talk to Jack about it later in an attempt at sparing his PA the nightmare of dealing with that himself. But for now, his focus had narrowed. Rhys did not care about anything but Jack’s touch and the taste of him on his tongue. 

He was out of his vest, holster, and shoes by the time they got to Jack’s penthouse. The rest of his clothes were lost somewhere along the way to the bedroom. In the blink of an eye, Rhys was lying in the middle of Jack’s enormous bed, his legs spread, and, admittedly, shaking like a leaf as Jack worked him open. 

His motions were quick and efficient. Not rough, but containing an edge of impatience as Jack bit and kissed across whatever skin he could reach. Rhys clutched at the sheets surrounding him, trying to ground himself and not be overwhelmed by how good it all felt. When Jack intentionally curled his fingers against his prostate again, Rhys moaned sharply. 

He was starting to ache with how turned on he was, on the verge of begging when Jack withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock. He did not hesitate. Jack had been thorough. His body opened easily, allowing Jack to slide in with one deep, fluid thrust. 

“Oh, fuck.  _ Jack,”  _ Rhys said, grabbing at him.

Jack let out a string of curses commingled with a litany of praise as he bottomed out. He paused like that, giving Rhys, or perhaps himself, a moment to adjust. Then one hand wrapped possessively around Rhys’ throat. 

“I told you I was nowhere near done with you, didn’t I?”

Rhys didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because Jack started to  _ move.  _ He found himself unable to do anything with the overwhelming feeling of Jack inside him and over him. But Rhys relaxed into it. 

The ache faded. 

He would feel it tomorrow, sure, but as Jack pushed his legs up further and hit the angle perfectly, Rhys let out a loud moan and knew it would be worth it. 

“God, Rhys. You fuck like a dream.” 

His thrusts came faster then, pushing sounds from Rhys’ throat that he hadn’t intended to make. But at Jack’s murmured encouragement, he let himself keep making them. And when Jack leaned down to bite him, Rhys swore again. 

It wouldn’t take much more.

“Jack,” he breathed, wanting to touch himself, but could not even imagine Jack wanting him to. “I’m so clo—“ He broke off with a gasp as Jack curled his fingers around him and began to stroke him. His hand didn’t move the length of him, just small tugging motions. Loosely stimulating but firm and insistent.

“Christ,” Jack muttered, voice gravelly. “Look at you.” 

Really, Rhys was thinking the same thing. Jack’s eyes were dark, burning with that frightening intensity. Cheeks flushed, strands of hair falling over his forehead. 

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he continued. “Being back on top.”

Rhys’ orgasm was rising fast with every word as Jack’s perfect voice continued to fall apart. 

“With you underneath me.”

His breaking point slammed into him then. Jack managed a couple more thrusts before burying himself to the hilt and following after him. Rhys pulled Jack down and kissed him through the tail end of it. He could feel his breath and his heart. A reminder that this was as real as anything could be despite how unlikely it seemed. 

After a minute, Jack moved away to mouth at his throat and under his jaw before shifting off of him. It caught Rhys by surprise, for whatever reason, when Jack wiped off his stomach with his pants.

“Thank you,” Rhys said primly, and Jack flashed one of those  _ smiles. _ The loose, crooked ones where he looked almost happy. 

“That’s the attitude I like to see. Want me to have dinner sent up?”

Rhys pushed himself upright. “I’m more tired than anything.”

Jack grunted, but it was a good-natured sound, and the silence that followed was peaceful for a moment.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said. “And if you’re not kicking me out, I should remove my arm.”

“I’m not kicking you out.” Jack took Rhys’ arm in both hands. Smoothing one up the metal. Rhys’ heart skipped a beat at the touch. Then Jack exhaled and began to dismount his arm. 

“Bathroom is over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely behind him once finished. Not meeting Rhys’ stunned gaze. “Hurry up.” 

By the time Rhys returned, the lights were out and the circadian system built into the glass walls had been activated. Jack threw the covers over him and draped an arm over his middle. The sleep that beckoned then felt rich and deep and layered with rest and Rhys sank into it. 

His eyes closed, and he slept. 

When Rhys woke, it was to the smell of coffee, and he had the dim memory of Jack wrapping himself around Rhys in the middle of the night and pushing his face into his hair. Rhys sighed contentedly, accidentally dragging Jack out of his reverie. 

He turned away from the window, and smirked.

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unnecessary rambles 3.0:  
> (1) hey-o! Guess what my favorite trope is! ~~answer: sleeping better together.~~
> 
> (2) The titan Hyperion was also known as ‘The High One.’
> 
> (3) Hopefully, the pacing of this thing still feels right to everyone. I wanted to re-establish/emphasize Rhys' support system through all of this, because I feel like it is an important contrast between him & Jack. With that said, things will start ramping up to the final arc.
> 
> (4) [More commissions](https://twitter.com/captain_b11rd/status/1261304296597053445?s=20)! This time from bird_tirex. Go love on them, they’re great.
> 
> ~~(5) Holy shit, these chapters keep, getting longer & longer... My bad... Also, I feel like I ramble too much in the notes... do I ramble to much in the notes? Ack! *stops rambling*~~


	15. The Enormity of the Emptiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Thank you so much for reading & for the lovely support sent my way last update. As someone with anxiety, I know how stressful it can be to reach out, even on anon, but know I treasure each & every instance. It's also more than okay to keep quietly reading along. Either way, know that I appreciate you ♥️ ♥️ ♥️
> 
> It’s looking like 19-20 chapters should wrap this thing up nicely depending on how I break up the final arc, but either way, we're getting pretty close to the finale. Admittedly, as I ramp up to it ~~starting now~~ , I’m feeling a bit of pressure to not fumble it with the challenges 3rd limited brings, but that’s on me.
> 
> All that being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter & how everything has been developing so far.

“For the record, I am unhappy with you.” 

Rhys stilled and swiveled around to face Patrick. His eyes were locked onto him, and the blue in them was sharp enough to cut. 

“Whatever for?” 

Patrick just gestured toward the ballroom doors. 

“I don’t understand,” Rhys said. “We agreed t—“

“I know what we agreed to. That is not the issue,” Patrick informed him, then looked past Rhys. 

Rhys glanced down at the floor, then followed Patrick’s line of sight. 

At the end of the hall, was a statue of Jack. Arms crossed, stance wide, the gold clashing horribly with the building’s flawless design. But, hey, at least Jack had taken down Rhys’ picture and plaque months ago. That was all he had really cared about. After all, Rhys had started his career at Hyperion. The number of statues currently residing within HQ was substantially less than he recalled seeing daily back on Helios. Though, they were all incredibly  _ massive.  _

Quality, not quantity this time around perhaps. 

“I have kept my peace about this, because you are my friend, and I have tried to—” Patrick’s jaw clenched slightly. “Be supportive. But, he thinks he is better than everyone else. When he kills people, it is justified because they were not really  _ his  _ people. When you put everything on hold to come out here every few weeks, it is inconsequential, because  _ he _ is not the one being inconvenienced.”

“In his mind, he is not a hero, he is a god,” Patrick continued. “He thinks he deserves to rule over everything. You included, and so, here we are.”

“We’re here on business.”

“If we were just here on business, we would get back on the ship and go home when this is over.” 

Rhys sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made plans to—”

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t turn this around and make it about me. I am not trying to guilt you. I just need you to know that you could do so much better than what you have settled for.” Patrick stared at Rhys a moment, disappointed resignation written across his face. “I will not bring it up again.” 

“I appreciate it,” Rhys said. “Not just that, but, you know, everything.” 

“Of course,” Patrick replied firmly. Then straightened his tie, charcoal grey with the slightest silver shimmer to it. Seemingly at a loss on how to further respond without his deflective go-to standard of claiming it was just part of his job. 

Rhys had respected the man for years and knew how he could get when the going got tough, but the past six months had accentuated just how much of a force of nature he was. Settling into his new position had been a noticeable adjustment for Patrick, but all in all, it was not much different for Rhys. He had just become aware of the extent to which Patrick struggled with letting go of that hero-worship. 

It was a pedestal that was slowly breaking, however, and Rhys was glad for it. 

“And not to undermine what you were trying to say, but I don’t put everything on hold. I work just as much remotely,” Rhys reminded him. “What I’m unable to handle in person, well, that’s what I’ve got you for.”

“And I do so enjoy how much Jack despises that,” he said. 

Rhys chuckled, then side-by-side, they headed for the doors. 

The ballroom had a glass ceiling that was at least forty feet high, and beyond it, the stars were shining, but Rhys barely noticed. The moons were bright, but it hardly compared. 

The room was filled with people, resplendent in its decorations. It seemed to glow with golden light. There was a fully stocked bar and tables laden with hors d’oeuvres. A handful of high top tables, and innumerable leather sofas and chairs so people could mingle how ever they saw fit. Somewhere a string ensemble was playing low and careful music.

But because Jack couldn’t help but ruin anything impressively designed, an ice sculpture of himself poured an endless stream of what was probably eye-wateringly expensive champagne directly down a drain.

Rhys also definitely heard a whinny. 

Still, it was to be the soirée of a lifetime. Jack was officially back on top. Profits were way up, ‘employee turnover’ was way down, and the assassination attempts had stopped altogether. What better way to punctuate that than to throw himself a party on New Year’s Eve. Of course, this included being a petty douche and inviting the rest of the Supreme Eight. Rhys would not be there if it had felt like he had a choice, but Jack had told him to put it on his calendar with a—  _ we’re celebrating, kitten—  _ the last time he was on Eos. 

Other than himself, Mr. Torgue was in attendance for the EXPLOSIONS (i.e., fireworks). Regina Tediore because, well, Rhys didn’t rightly know. She was an intimidating woman, and he would be much happier in life not knowing why. And finally, Wainwright Jakobs, who gave absolutely zero shits about the corporate game. He probably heard free whiskey and cigars and went ‘that sounds like a mighty damn fine time.’ Everyone else was uninterested in putting up with Jack’s bullshit.

Which Rhys got a fat dose of within seconds. 

He stiffened when a hand slid over his shoulder, across his back, then pulled him sideways. Rhys tried to relax into the contact, but couldn’t. The familiarity clashed with what Rhys knew was to come. He felt almost hollow inside as he braced himself.

“There he is! CEO. Rhys. Strongfork. Not too smart, but also not too dumb,” Jack said to the woman sporting an HTBN badge. “Can you imagine how much worse things would’ve been around here if this guy hadn’t had the brain cells to walk away?” 

Jack laughed in amusement.

“But geez, kiddo, I can respect wanting to be fashionably late, but that requires, you know, having a sense of fashion.” He carelessly jerked Rhys’ tie loose. 

It felt like a rebuke, and Rhys bristled. His suit was properly tailored. Defining. Radically expensive textured wool in a crisp medium grey. A slim dark red tie, almost black, provided a tasteful splash of color. 

But that wasn’t the issue. 

This was Jack. The real Jack in his element. When anyone thought ‘Hyperion,’ nowadays, the name was associated with limitless power and cutting-edge technology and Handsome  _ fucking _ Jack. Just as he liked it. 

“Take a picture, sweetheart. I want to remember this moment, because  _ Christ,  _ I don’t know why anyone would want to carry the world around on their shoulders when they can stand on top of it, but whatever. Have fun with that, princess.”

The picture was taken. Then Jack removed his arm from Rhys’ shoulders and clapped him roughly on the back before walking away. 

“Have some cake or something before you get the fuck out of my sector. You’re too goddamn skinny.” 

The issue was this had been unavoidable proof that Patrick was right. That Rhys was putting continuous effort into someone that was never going to respect him like he deserved. For that, in that moment, he hated Jack. 

Rhys took a deep, even breath, trying to quell how he was practically vibrating with resentment. Then he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing service bot. 

He knocked it back.

Patrick continued to stare after Jack with undisguised loathing.

“Well, that went much smoother than I had anticipated,” came a slow, familiar drawl. 

“Quite right. For a moment there, I thought things were about to get rather exciting.”

They turned in tandem to find Wainwright and Hammerlock approaching. 

Wainwright hummed. “This sure is a boring affair, isn’t it, darling?”

“Don’t fret, Winny. We’ll make the most of it.” 

“How were you two welcomed?” Patrick inquired. 

“We were ignored.” Wainwright waved his whiskey on the rocks through the air. “Much like yourself.” 

Patrick just shrugged. “It is of no significance to me. This event may be for Handsome Jack, but I am in attendance for Rhys and for Atlas. Nothing more.” 

“I say, Rhys,” Wainwright began, a slow smile creeping across his face. “You have found yourself the best possible successor you ever could have. My father always said family was about more than blood, and I applaud you for having a similar mindset to ensure the Atlas name lives on the way you want.”

Patrick appeared to be growing alarmed. “I apologize, but I believe you are mistaken.”

“I am most certainly not. Look at him.” Wainwright gestured lazily toward Rhys, who couldn’t help but smirk. “He’s thought it.”

There was no point in lying. “I have,” Rhys admitted, and Patrick blanched slightly.

“See? Good thing too because it’d be a cryin’ shame to see someone like our gracious host get his hands on it again just to ruin the entire corporation out of spite.” 

Hammerlock nodded sagely. 

“Not a concern,” Rhys said. “We won our war.”

Wainwright barked a laugh. “We sure did. Jack would do well to remember that. Get yourself a goddamn refill. It’s high past time we catch up.”

“It was too bad you two were unable to make it to the wedding,” Hammerlock said. 

“Work,” Rhys allowed, which wasn’t entirely a lie. With Patrick officially at the helm in his absence, Rhys had started visiting various Atlas branches on his way to and from Eos. Checking in on new ventures and really getting his hands back on all aspects of the company.

“But that Wedding Invitation was something else,” he added, sounding exactly how he meant it; impressed. “Plus, useful for the guests, based on what I’ve heard.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Wainwright mused. “But, drinks! Go on now.” 

“We will commandeer some chairs and tell you all about it once you join us.” Hammerlock took Wainwright’s arm before they walked off. 

Rhys raised an eyebrow. After that interaction with Jack, he could use another drink and some good company. However, Patrick did not drink, and at this point, Rhys was not going to subject him to anything else he did not want to deal with. If Patrick wished to stand in a corner and chat for an hour or two, just them, that was precisely what they would do. 

“It will be a pleasant way to pass the time,” Patrick said, then reached for Rhys’ tie. 

The corner of his mouth quirked up as Patrick began to slowly and meticulously correct Rhys’ appearance. “Much like this?”

And then, Patrick did something he hardly ever did: he smiled. “I am allowed to enjoy myself. It is a party, after all, even if it is in Jack’s honor.” 

Rhys chuckled. “Very true,” he said, then wandered over to the ice sculpture fountain thing for a refill. 

The crowd backed off at the sight of him.

It had been impossible to be objective while Jack showed him no mercy whatsoever, but this was what they had agreed to. How Rhys felt did not matter. They were corporate rivals and bitter enemies with an insurmountable history. However, it seemed that by taking the brunt force of Jack’s cruelty, Rhys would come out of the evening otherwise remarkably unscathed. It was… a kindness, in a way, even if he could not be sure whether it had been intentional or not. 

With beverages and hors d’oeuvres in hand, they made their way over to the relatively unoccupied area where Wainwright and Hammerlock waited. They sat together on a loveseat, and he and Patrick each took one of the provided chairs. The conversation flowed easily, and Rhys hadn’t laughed as much in one evening since Vaughn’s last visit to Promethea. 

At one point, Rhys accidentally caught Regina’s eye. However, she only tipped her chin with a degree of serious respect that surprised him. Then Torgue came over and literally screamed Patrick’s praises until the man looked like he wanted to die. Perhaps it would prevent him from returning to the Cistern of Slaughter. Rhys had never said anything, but losing Patrick to an angry hoard of shit throwing jabbers, a modern-day dinosaur, or, heaven forbid, a gigantic ratch was a legit concern.

Jack, for his part, played the benevolent king. Indulgent to those beneath him. He smirked and engaged in what appeared to be an endless stream of small talk with old money and Hyperion higher-ups and socialites. Individuals looking to get close to Jack. Individuals looking for a real taste of power. The subtle and seamless strategy of it all was not lost on Rhys, nor on Jack.

It inspired a sense of coldness and instability about him. Especially with the holster strapped to his thigh, revolver grip sticking out and impossible to ignore. But all it seemed to do was further orient the room around Jack. Highlight how nothing else was relevant or worthy of attention. 

Rhys spent the event caught between denying that and acknowledging that there were far easier options if Jack just wanted something casual or convenient. A room full of them currently at his disposal, in fact. Rhys tried to focus on one to forget the other. 

The farther Jack got, the easier it became.

Regardless, during one bout of laughter, due to Torgue regaling them with his adventures in curing hunger, by you know… accidentally killing people, Rhys happened to glance over to the other side of the room. Perhaps subconsciously seeking Jack out. The amusement immediately left Rhys when he found Jack’s gaze already locked onto him. 

It was not the narrowed-eyed glaring of rage or resentment. Nor was it the intent, piercing gaze that seemed to see right through him. 

Instead, it merely was.

The moment stretched out. They kept staring at each other.

Jack was not his, but Rhys could not help the feeling as it rose within him. Based on that alone, he realized he had been mistaken. This was the easier option. Rhys already knew his place and was compelled forward, uncomplaining, because what he had with Jack was still  _ so much.  _ Jack knew it just as he knew Rhys would never ask for more. That he would play by the rules they had set until… well. 

Until Jack didn’t want to play anymore.

Rhys smirked faintly, then looked away. 

After that, it was impossible to disregard what Patrick said earlier. To stop himself from wondering if he’d ever learn how to thrive rather than merely survive. Of course, Patrick picked up on the subtle change in Rhys’ behavior and announced that it was time for them to depart. Leaving before Jack’s speech would look like a slight. A continuation of their set roles. 

True to his word, Patrick didn’t say anything when they parted ways for the night. There was a moment where Rhys thought he might, but Patrick only tilted his head slightly to the side with an expression of compassion rather than pity. Which was somehow worse. Then he bade Rhys a good evening before heading off to spend the night aboard Coeus.

The building was emptier than Rhys was accustomed to. It was barren. Quiet. His boots clicking against the floor made him hyperaware of the enormity of the emptiness. No one bothered him as he made his way to Jack’s penthouse. No one needed to. He was a familiar presence among the security leads, and the programming in his wristband was layered. An adjustment Rhys had agreed to that allowed for seamless usage between the two corporations. 

He was digging around through his designated drawer in Jack’s wardrobe when a notification hit his HUD.

_ Where did you disappear off to? _

_ Just upstairs.  _

_ Ok. Good.  _

Rhys pulled on a Hyperion t-shirt and a pair of sweats that read  _ ‘Tapped ATLAS-T’  _ across the ass. He only wore the latter because (1) they were obscenely comfortable, and (2) Jack didn’t wipe spunk off of him with them. Not because (3) Jack had given them to him. 

He had collected a lot of random shit from Jack over the months. All of it lowkey passive-aggressive and very ‘Jack.’ Stuff like more sticky notes, some… interesting socks for his collection, a few more Hyperion guns, an offensively adorable plush ratch (which just sort of floated around Rhys’ apartment because he didn’t actually know what to  _ do _ with it), and a sparkly Butt Stallion toothbrush that sat alongside Jack’s here.

There was a casualness in the way Jack shared space with Rhys. In itself, something large enough for Rhys to trust Jack right into his grave. However, something about the evening was bringing everything to the surface. The confused longing for Jack and Rhys’ absolute and utter fury with himself for it. Making him doubt and regret where he hadn’t harbored a single thread of it before. He didn’t know what he could do about it. 

Or, if he wanted to do anything about it at all. 

Rhys dismounted his arm and crawled into bed, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling in his gut. His mind drifted off into a quiet darkness, resting without sleeping. After some time, it registered that Jack had returned. Rustling, the click of an empty chamber which de-cocked a gun. A case locking. Rhys was about to get up when Jack came into the room. 

The moonlight caught the grey streak in his hair; cast his silhouette in silver. It was weird seeing Jack in something other than his usual layers, but the suit fit him perfectly. More perfectly than anything Rhys had ever owned, even if he wasn’t wearing a jacket. No tie either. Just a splash of Hyperion Yellow tucked into his vest pocket with his shirt sleeves rolled up and the top button undone.

Rhys propped himself up and observed Jack carefully. He began to undress almost absently. Jack seemed only partly-present, as though his mind were elsewhere. As if he had forgotten Rhys was even there. 

“Jack,” he ventured cautiously. 

Jack’s shoulders tensed, then loosened as he shrugged off his shirt. 

No response. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“I can’t believe you actually brought Patrick,” he bit, taking a few steps in his direction. 

Rhys swallowed, hesitating. “I told you I was going to, and given the situation, I’m not sure what else you expected out of me. To come alone and undermine myself?”

There was a flash of that ever-present rage and something else that Rhys couldn’t quite place. Then it all vanished.

Jack’s expression was cold and closed, but his eyes burned.

“Even with the press restrictions, it was still a public event,” Rhys continued. “You didn’t leave me a lot of choice in the matter.” 

Jack rolled his jaw. “Why is there one of your guns in the other room?” 

“You said that it was impossible to take Tediore’s ‘gimmicky bullshit’ and make a decent weapon. It wasn’t too difficult to reverse engineer. I blended the digistruct aspects of it that didn’t completely suck with Atlas tech.”

“So, you spite made me an assault rifle?”

“I spite made me an assault rifle, and had it painted Hyperion Yellow for you in hopes that it would actually make you look at it before telling me it’s garbage.”

Jack kept looking down at Rhys for another moment. The coldness had faded, but there was still something tense about the corners of his mouth.

“I’ve never said your weapons are garbage.” 

“No, but it is possible to take a step down from ‘not terrible.’”

Jack hummed. “Make it a ‘greatest guy in the universe’ gift, and I’ll indulge you.”

Rhys sank back into the pillows and blankets. Supporting himself without the weight of his other arm always got awkward after a while. 

“Isn’t everything for you, anyway?”

Jack didn’t smile exactly, but his mouth went a bit soft. He kicked off his pants and climbed into bed. The weight of his regard was more tangible than usual, and Rhys had to force himself to meet it. Then Jack leaned over him to speak into his ear.

“It is,” he said simply. “Though I am starting to wonder what fun there is in having something if you can’t show it off.”

Rhys closed his eyes against that, and Jack tilted his head up and kissed Rhys’ neck and then moved closer so he could do it again and again. 

“There is a great deal of power in stepping over boundaries,” Rhys allowed.

“Like drinking the champagne out of the fountain?”

“I knew it’d be better than what you were serving.” 

Rhys could feel a long inhale. Then Jack started working his way up Rhys’ neck with a single-minded focus. Open-mouthed kisses with a bite of teeth that would end in marks. He really didn’t want Jack to stop.

“I think you were the only one smart enough to figure that out.”

“No, I think I was just the only one pissed off enough to not give a shit what you thought.”

Jack slipped his fingers under the elastic at Rhys’ hip. “And yet, here you are.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I would have shot anyone else.”

“I know.”

Jack took his mouth then, and Rhys just cupped his hand against the back of Jack’s head to keep him there. He let Jack’s hair slide through his fingers then felt the warmth of his skin and the familiar way the muscles in his back shifted.

They’d been together countless times, but somehow it felt different. 

Rhys knew why, but instead, he thought:  _ We’re in this together,  _ because it seemed the safest, and that, at least, had been proven true time and time again. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

It didn’t take much to wake Jack. The feeling of the blankets shifting was what did it early the following morning. He rolled over with a deep inhale.

“You alright?” he mumbled sleepily. 

“Yeah. I just need to go.” Rhys’ arm clicked into the first position of his artificial socket. 

“What time is it?”

“Way too early,” he said, trying to focus on getting the ribbon cables reconnected. “Go back to sleep.”

Jack was silent for a minute and then sighed.

Rhys blinked as the lights came on and looked up. Jack was reclining against the headboard with one leg drawn up. He slowly raised an eyebrow.

His cheeks flushed. “Thanks,” Rhys said, then deftly plugged in the wires and pressed against his shoulder to drop it into the final position. He habitually curled and uncurled his metal fingers before pulling on his clothes. 

Rhys was not uncomfortable being naked around Jack. But Jack also did a lot of leering that he suspected was supposed to make him uncomfortable… Like right now. It was just easier to wear clothes. Plus, like, he had to leave.

“Next time, don’t bring your wet blanket.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

Jack grunted, then tapped at his wristband. “How’s the weekend of the 17th look for you?”

He called up his schedule to the week in question, then Rhys felt his stomach drop. His calendar was blank. The reprogramming. Somehow he had forgotten. 

Without the urgency Rhys had felt to put everything behind him, he and Raesler just worked on it in their spare time. Granted, they had put a lot more effort into it than they otherwise would have, but once it was finished, Rhys had just told her to schedule it with his secretary. Helena had worked for him for years now, but he just didn’t have the personal rapport with her that he had with Patrick. She would not know to send him regular reminders so that it didn’t blindside him. 

Rhys finished buttoning his shirt. 

Despite that, he was tempted. Really tempted. He could sleep it off on the ship. Maybe even stay a little longer than usual. Except, they were going to be modifying the way his cybernetics were bonded to his consciousness. Recovery time would probably be longer than expected. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but with any luck, Rhys would not need to mess with it again for several years. 

“I have some reprogramming scheduled for the 14th. How about the 20th? I know midweek isn’t convenient, but…” Rhys scanned through the following weeks. “It looks like it’d have to be after the first, if not.”

Jack pushed himself out of bed. “The third works for me.” 

“Alright.” Rhys blocked out the usual week, then dismissed his HUD. 

Jack tugged lightly at his tie, loosening it, then leaned in to bite his neck. “Until next time, cupcake.” He slapped Rhys’ ass on his way past to the bathroom. 

Aboard Coeus, he found a disgruntled Patrick and some cake. Specifically, the part of it that was Jack’s face. Rhys had it for breakfast. Then he got to work. 

As a result, the 14th came much faster than Rhys would have liked. It was an unfortunate side effect of that ‘keeping busy’ thing when what he was trying to deal with wasn’t yet behind him. It had held him up very well. Rhys had no complaints about that. But as he took a deep breath and ignored the slight tremor in his hand, he wished, for once, that he had slowed down a little. 

Rhys rubbed the sheet between his fingers and thought of Jack. He couldn’t recall the last time they had spoken. If he had called Jack or vice versa. Had he been angry? Tired? Did something happen that Rhys had missed while he was caught up in his own shit? 

Was Jack even okay?

That Rhys didn’t know made him feel unmoored. More so than having his arm detached or the backless gown he wore or the monitors stuck to his chest and temple. 

“Rhys—” Raesler paused a moment when he startled a little. “Everything is going to be fine,” she said. 

He gave her a listless smile. “I know.” 

He could pretend. He could pull through. He could deal with one thing and then another. Just like always. 

Everything would be fine. 

Even if the swell of belated panic in the back of his head said otherwise, but it would. He swallowed and tipped his head to the side as Raesler pressed a hypo into his shoulder. 

“Something to calm you down.” 

“Thanks, Pen.” 

It hit him hard. Rhys knew it was fast-acting, but he must have been more tired than he realized. Pen helped him lay down, then a few minutes later put the line in his arm.

“Start counting, Rhys.”

_Twenty-five. Twenty-four. Twenty-three. Twenty-two…_

His head ached slightly.

_Eighteen. Seventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen…_

Things were slowly becoming comfortingly vague. Lanced with a dark undertone of being dragged under by something he could not escape, sure, but soothing nonetheless.

_Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight…_

Time both stopped and hurtled forward. It felt like everything had turned out just as it was supposed to even if none of those things had taken place yet, and he had no clue what they were.

Then there was nothing at all, except darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am apparently unable to stop myself from peppering in my favorite guns as I write. The Carrier will always be a personal favorite, but that O.P.Q. System... 👌 If I could toss in the Maliwan Hellshock in here somehow I would, but alas, everyone in this fic probably hates them lol.
> 
> Also, happy birthday astrotoby 🎉 🎈 better one (1) day late than never


	16. A Tipping Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *knocks down chapter count and **finally** yeets up that hurt/comfort tag*

Regaining consciousness was a bitch. 

The headache was worse than usual. It felt like someone had driven a metal spike through his port and into the center of his brain. A constant pressure that threatened to crack through his skull. He needed something to counteract it. He needed Pen. 

Rhys forced his eyes open in search. The room slowly swam into view as the dazed, drugged sensation faded away. He wasn’t exactly seeing double. There was only a slight halo around objects, a shimmering haze to the left of everything like the image was smeared a little. Rhys blinked a few times, but the halo remained.

And so did Jack. 

He looked at him for several minutes, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Jack was seated in a chair that had not been there earlier. His elbow was propped up on the armrest, hand wrapped around his forehead as though he had a headache of his own; leg bouncing. 

Their relationship or whatever they were to each other, there was no proof. No solid evidence that it was real, that it happened, or meant anything. Rhys had nothing but memories and words murmured in the heat of the moment. He wanted more than that. 

Rhys wanted what existed away from the public, apart from his people, removed from everything that wasn’t just the two of them. He wanted to take it and make it real. Based on the fact that Jack was there, maybe he wanted that too. As much as Rhys tried, because  _ fuck, _ it would be so much easier if he was wrong, he could not come up with another explanation for Jack’s presence. 

He had taken everything with him when he left Promethea. The clothing and shoes and personal necessities Rhys had bought him. Angel’s picture. The device and its sphere. All of the data from Helios. His DNA sample. The additional clones had been destroyed per his request. Jack even took the copy of  _ The Enterprise _ that Rhys had signed instead of throwing it away. He had seen it once, randomly in Jack’s kitchen, but never knew what to make of it. 

There was nothing left here for Jack, except him. 

Jack glanced up and noticed Rhys was awake. His expression was open for an instant as their eyes met. There was nothing angry or embittered in his gaze. Only something possessive and strangely haunted. Jack looked away, and it was gone. 

“Are you alright?” 

“My head.” Rhys swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reopened them. “I can’t see right.” 

A muscle jumped in Jack’s jaw, and the hand on his knee became fingers digging in. Brought out the tendons in his forearm. 

“I need Pen.” 

“I’ll get her.”

“You’ll— come back?” Rhys knew how it sounded, but he couldn’t muster the energy to care. 

Jack met his gaze levelly. “I’m not going anywhere, Rhys,” he said, then tapped something into the screen on his wristband.

Rhys sighed and leaned back into the pillow. “I was worried earlier. Before this. I couldn’t remember the last time we spoke.” 

“It was on the sixth.” 

“Did I do something?” 

“Yeah,” Jack said tightly. “You did.” 

“I don’t understand—” Rhys squeezed his eyes closed again as he attempted to think back through the pain. “I don’t understand why you’re here then. I can’t remember the conversation, and I know that’s on me, but—”

“That part isn’t important.”

“Then what is?” 

“I—” Jack started to speak. Then his jaw locked, and he didn’t say anything else.

There was a long silence.

“You’re not well enough to have this talk,” he said. 

“This is nothing compared to how it was on Pandora.”

Jack’s expression hardened, his eyes becoming flint-like. Then his shoulders raised slightly as he took a deep breath. Rhys tilted his head to the side as he tried to process. He felt oddly detached from the situation. His body was there, as was the analytical part of his mind, but the rest was just… absent. Rhys was aware that Jack had become his limit. That he would never do anything to intentionally harm him, even if it meant losing everything in return. This was a fact of the utmost importance, and yet he couldn’t feel it.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys offered. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just… feel off.” 

“Raesler gave you something since, you know, me being here is apparently a goddamn problem for you.” Jack’s fingers flexed almost reactively as he said that. 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Evidently, he was still able to feel confused.

“Maybe for Atlas, but I’m sure you and I can come to an agreement on how to spin it if it comes to that,” Rhys replied indifferently. 

Jack gave him a bitter smirk before growing cold again. His eyes wouldn’t stay; his gaze swept on.

“Well, there’s that, at least,” he said. 

Rhys studied him for a moment. Jack had clearly expected that response. He even appeared almost upset about Rhys following through with it. He did not blame him. He wouldn’t have liked that either had it been flipped around. 

“Jack. I would rather have you physically with me than not, regardless of that. What’s the point of any of it otherwise?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth ticked up, involuntarily it seemed, and he looked over at him. His gaze seemed softer and darker than usual. 

“Those drugs must be doing a real number on you,” he said. 

“What do you mean?”

“Saying you’d rather have me around than ensuring we keep up with all these bullshit pretenses.”

Rhys stared at Jack in astonishment. There were so many things about them that he wanted to unravel. There was so much about them that made little sense. But that… 

“I would,” he promised. “I do. I just thought that was what you wanted. I’ve been doing it for you.” 

Jack didn’t say anything. He just stared back. Watching Rhys so intently, it felt as though Jack were committing him to memory.

“You didn’t know?” Rhys asked, but at the sound of approaching footsteps, Jack’s walls of ice came crashing back down. 

“As I said, we’ll have to talk about this later, kiddo.”

“I hate it when you call me that,” Rhys told him. 

Jack winked. “Won’t do it again, kitten,” he murmured. 

That made him happy. Rhys felt it briefly. A quick, small splash into his consciousness before it faded away like ripples in a pond. Then Jack pulled his eyes away as Raesler breezed on past him like he belonged there. The smallest smile touching her mouth as their gazes briefly met.

Patrick stopped a few steps from the foot of the bed and glared with open disapproval; Jack flipped him off.

“Jack said your vision is being affected?” 

“Everything is distorted a little to the left,” Rhys explained. “Like smudged ink.”

Raesler inclined her head. “Just your artificial eye or both?”

“Both.” 

“That’s good,” she said. “I won’t need to hook in and run diagnostics. Probably just the migraine. Is it bad?” 

“It was worse when I woke up.”

“What about your HUD?”

Rhys called it up and entered various modes, putting himself through the paces in rapid succession. Info overlays, database retrieval, basic operations, interfacing capabilities, etcetera. The crisp, clear lines of his HUD emphasized the imbalance in his vision, but he could still see Jack sitting there. Middle finger proudly raised while he stared Rhys down like he couldn’t look away. 

It was far later than Rhys had realized. Almost 19:00. Despite being out for nearly a full five hours, he still felt unfathomably drained. Which was not unexpected. Rhys wondered how long Jack was planning to stay. They obviously had some things to talk about. But he was tired and couldn’t keep his responses in check as easily as he usually did.

“It’s fine,” Rhys told her. “And you were right. Operations run seamlessly, reacting before I even consciously command it to.”

Raesler nodded and extracted a hypo from her coat pocket. “I have something different than your usual, but it will take effect quicker.”

“Provided it doesn’t screw with me more than what you’ve already given me, that’d be preferable anyway.”

Her expression tightened. “It won’t,” she said before pressing it into Rhys’ shoulder. “It’s just a more expensive form of pain relief.”

An icy sensation began to trickle its way through his bloodstream. 

“It’ll work better alongside the medication I gave you earlier, which is temporarily disrupting the feedback loops of your endocrine systems.” Raesler dropped the used hypo into the biohazard bin and snapped her gum. “It affords you greater mental clarity than what you had before the reprogramming while still regulating your heart rate, cardiac output, blood pressure, and glucose levels. It does this by negating your sympathoadrenal discharge or fight-or-flight responses. No norepinephrine or epinephrine release. In summary, it is flatlining your mood by suppressing your ability to respond to the environment around you.”

“I gave it to you three hours ago when Jack got here,” she added, crossing her arms almost defensively. “It will gradually work its way out of your system by morning.”

“That seems excessive,” Rhys said. “Can I have my arm?”

“It does seem excessive, doesn’t it?” Jack clipped out, then finally stopped flipping Patrick off to push himself out of the chair.

Patrick raised an eyebrow and said: “It was a necessary precaution given past events.”

Rhys blinked. After his mother died, Patrick had agreed to be his health care proxy. Rhys knew he would never do anything to endanger his life. Patrick was loyal to a fault. In that, he was predictable, and that was good for Rhys. He knew what to expect. However, while the decision was made with Rhys’ best interests in mind, the implications behind it were irritating. 

“It’s excessive,” he insisted. 

“No, it is not. Not with him.” Patrick managed to look both resolute and apologetic at the same time. Rhys disliked it and pretended not to see it. Furthermore, he refused to validate Patrick by further addressing it. No matter how much he despised and mistrusted Jack, he had said he wouldn’t bring it up again, and yet, he did in the worst possible way.

Fingers on his shoulder became a hand urging Rhys to sit up. 

Rhys looked up as he complied. His vision was almost back to normal. It was just a little fuzzy around the one side now, and this close, he could tell Jack was tired. More than tired.

The rotator ball at the top of his arm locked into the first position. 

“You know what?” Rhys asked.

Jack hummed as he began to plug the various wires into their designated ports. It had taken time for both of them to get over the underlying intimacy that came with the action. But Jack had been helping Rhys with his arm long enough now that it was almost automatic, if not expected, when they were together. 

“I must admit that I am fascinated someone can be such an effective strategist while suffering from such severe delusions about themselves.”

Jack chuckled. “I had one made for you too, cupcake. I’ll give it to you later when you can appreciate it fully.” 

Rhys eyed Jack’s chest skeptically. Underneath the white dress shirt was his standard Hyperion Yellow t-shirt, except this one read  _ ‘The Best’  _ in big sparkly white letters. It was doubtful Rhys’ would say the same thing. 

“I look forward to seeing it,” he decided. 

Jack braced Rhys with a hand on his shoulder and pushed his arm into the final position. “I’ve got something to hold you over,” he said, then turned away to dig around in his rucksack.

Patrick and Raesler were outside of the bay muttering in argument; Rhys flexed his metal fingers as he thought. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t hit him,” he said when Jack faced him with some clothes tossed over one shoulder.

“I reeeeally wanted to, but it seemed counterproductive at—”

“There is a discussion we need to have,” Patrick interrupted. “Alone.”

“Can I hit him now?” Jack muttered.

“Don’t ask me shit like that right now,” he replied, and Jack snorted. Rhys threw back the sheet and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Turn—  _ the fuck— _ around, asshole.” Jack made a twirling motion at Patrick, who turned his whole body around to face the central area of Raesler’s lab.

“Why doesn’t she have to turn around?” he complained.

“She’s into you,” Jack said, holding up a familiar pair of grey sweats. However, these unexpectedly read:  _ Property of Handsome Jack  _ across the ass. Rhys felt it again, that faint stirring of happiness, then it faded away. He reached for them, but Jack slapped his hand away.

“She obviously has horrible taste,” Jack added. “No offense, doc.”

“It is what it is,” Raesler said, smiling, before turning around herself. 

“How—”

“You two are literally the worst kept secret on Promethea,” Rhys told him as Jack started helping him get dressed. 

It was unexpected having Jack tend to him like this, but Rhys didn’t dislike it. Didn’t find it… intrusive. He would have blamed it on the medication, but he could discern that he was displeased with Patrick’s continued presence. Rhys could not summon it entirely, but it was there. Patrick knew better.

Rhys sighed as he straightened out the Hyperion t-shirt. “Look, Jack is here, and whatever the problem is, it’s obviously related, so whatever you need to say, you can just say it. I’d tell him anyway even if he wasn’t here. We’re in this together whether you like it or not.” 

Patrick snapped around. “You do  _ not _ tell him everything, if you did—” His mouth clamped shut, and he pinched the bridge of his nose for several seconds as though trying to compose himself. Then he dragged his hand away and glared at Jack. “I hate you so much.”

“The feeling is decidedly mutual, four-eyes.” 

“What is it now?” Rhys asked.

“It is horrific how true that statement is.” Patrick gestured downward toward Rhys’ pants. “He used you and then left without a word. He didn’t help pick you up off the ground when that happened,  _ we did,  _ and yet—” 

Jack began to stalk around the far side of the bed, and Rhys stopped listening. His ECHOeye showed him Jack’s elevated vitals, noted his rapidly increasing agitation. Patrick knew. There was no way he didn’t. He just did not care. 

Rhys moved forward to intercept Jack, who walked up behind him until he was pressed against his back. A hand firmly wrapped around Rhys’ nape, Jack’s thumb slid back and forth along his neck. 

“Kitten—” 

A dull alarm went off when Rhys caught sight of Zer0 on the opposite side of the lab. Rhys stared at the blank faceplate calmly. He was not surprised this was happening, and a distant part of him was relieved he was unable to feel frightened or angry. This was an unpredictable situation, after all. Yet his mind was cold and crystal clear; his body didn’t have any physical reactions. At least, not reactively. 

He shifted his weight toward Jack. The movement slight, as though Rhys just wanted to get closer, but Jack was more concealed after he had altered his stance. 

“This is bullshit,” Rhys said. “I had my brain rewired today. Then, I was drugged, intentionally it seems, so you all can interfere with something that doesn’t directly affect any of you whatsoever.”

Patrick blinked and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Should we wait for Lorelei to join us?” Rhys tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Or, just get this started with, and we can catch her up when she gets here?”

“What are you—” Raesler cut off when she glanced behind her. 

Zer0 vanished. 

There were about twenty feet between them and where the assassin had been, but that did not matter. The strategy for getting Jack and himself to his penthouse without incident had already been rendered obsolete. This was happening whether Rhys liked it or not.

“Jack, I am going to need you to tru—”

Rhys tried to steady himself as he was ripped from Jack’s grasp but had to stop himself. Zer0’s sword, red and humming with energy, would cut right through his hands as if they were made of water. They spasmodically flexed at his sides as Zer0’s grip on his hair tightened, yanking back to keep Rhys upright as he spun him around; he hissed at the flash of pain. 

“She isn’t coming. /” Zer0 placed his blade against Rhys’ throat, right under his jaw. 

It was a warning that Jack heeded. He came to a grinding halt; revolver raised, his face twisted with fury.

_ “Get your fucking hands off him!”  _ Jack roared. There was something wild behind his eyes. 

Something that warned of a tipping point. 

“I need answers, and you are / Beyond compromised.”

Rhys should be enraged but couldn’t feel it. He should be consumed by betrayal but wasn’t. Minor aggravation was about as much as Rhys could manage. Still, it was as though a line had been drawn in his mind. A bright, burning line that fueled what little he could grasp. 

“Patrick,” he said. “I swear to god, if you are involved in this—” 

“Never. I would never. I just needed him to know the truth. That’s all.” 

“Then, put your gun away, and do not make this any worse than it already is.”

There was a quiet, tense moment in which no one spoke. 

No one moved.

Then there was the muted slide of metal against leather.

Jack’s eyes flicked past Zer0 as if to confirm Patrick had complied. His hand tensed convulsively around the grip as his focus came back to the assassin.

“The fact that we’re all still alive right now should be proof enough,” Rhys said slowly.

“There are far worse things / Than dying. You didn’t see / What he did to her.” 

_ “Don’t you fucking dare bring her up again,”  _ Jack yelled, taking a step forward. His eyes were dark and hardened with the rage he was just barely keeping in check. Rhys could practically see it twisting in the air around him.

He knew what Zer0 was trying to do, but this approach was zero-sum. Any gain would be balanced out by a loss on the other side, but it was impossible for Rhys to do nothing. His instincts were strongly urging him to try, even if anything Rhys could say in Jack’s favor would only end up damning himself further.

“I trust him more than I trust myself,” he said.

Jack flinched, and his finger twitched against the trigger. 

“What, you think because / He cares that you won’t meet / A similar fate?” 

His gaze drifted down to meet Rhys’. There was an accusation there that spoke louder than words. A confession all on its own. 

Then Rhys was staring down the barrel of Jack’s revolver. 

There was an undercurrent of panic coursing through Rhys that he couldn’t quite reach, and that was okay. Everything must come to an end. 

Rhys thought about all the bodies left in his wake. He thought about Jack and how he was the most efficient killing machine of them all and how since Rhys had brought him back anyway, those were ultimately part of his own death toll. Then he thought about their relationship— whatever it was and wherever it could have gone. And how it had been just as likely to destroy them both as everything in the universe except one another.

At least now, Rhys knew how it would end, but more importantly… 

He quirked his mouth into a faint smile. “I am more than aware of what we’re both capable of,” he told Jack. “And why.” 

“And now, so will I, /” Zer0 said, then gently pressed the blade into his throat. 

Rhys felt no pain. Perhaps, he had felt too much already that day, or maybe the blade was too sharp. That didn’t matter because what Rhys could feel was the warm blood trickle down his neck and over his collarbone. He drew a short, quick breath, the sound filling his ears, and closed his eyes because what else was he supposed to do? 

If he could do it all over, he would have chosen Jack every time. With him, Rhys was the closest thing to happy that he had been in years.

“Please don’t— Don’t—“ Jack said. Then his expression flickered, and he looked exactly like he had back on Helios Fallen. The only other time Rhys had actually seen him so obviously scared. 

“Don’t take away the only thing I have left.” His hand eased and tensed around the revolver’s grip. The weapon still locked onto Rhys. “Again.” 

“This has gone far enough,” Raesler said, sounding angry and upset. “As far as I’m concerned, you have your answers. This— Is he  _ bleeding?  _ Let him go! Did you ever stop to think what side effects there may have been to what I gave him?!”

Zer0 instantly released him, and Rhys stumbled forward into Jack. His hand came up and wrapped around Rhys’ throat. 

“Jack, I’m—“

“Christ. Don’t talk.” His hand slipped as Rhys lost his balance. Jack supported him with an arm around his waist and steered him toward the bed. 

“There was no other way to / Challenge his designs,” came Zer0’s voice. 

“I gave him something to keep him calm. To keep him safe. Not so you could take advantage! Which you did, so get—  _ the fuck—  _ out of my lab!” 

Patrick rushed over, and Jack raised his gun again. His hand glistened with blood. 

Shit. How much was he bleeding? 

“If you fucking touch him right now, I  _ will _ kill you,” Jack said. There was nothing dark in his gaze, only something lost and terrified, and if Rhys had the strength to ease it, he would.

“Patrick, I love you, but you are just as guilty as Zero is,” she said, hastily rummaging around in the nearby counter. “I need you to go.” 

“What an inappropriate time for you to say that for the first time,” Patrick replied stiffly.

_ “Leave.” _

There was a pause, then he said: “I love you, too,” and did as told.

Rhys swore that Jack was shaking lightly against him. There seemed to be a lot of blood that Rhys was only now just noticing pooling between his fingers. That wasn’t good. His hand came up to curl around the tattoo on Jack’s wrist. It was all he could manage at the moment. 

“Jack, I need you to move your hand,” Raesler said. “I can fix this. Right here, right now, but it’ll scar.”

“I don’t care. Just make it stop.”

“Okay, then, let go.” 

After a beat, Jack’s touch left, only to have long fingers tangle with his. Rhys squeezed his hand in his as tightly as he could. Jack didn’t say anything, but he stayed at his side as Pen worked. It took several hypos to counteract the blood-thinning before she could close the wound, but within fifteen minutes, it was all taken care of. 

An armed guard escorted them to his floor. There, Lorelei wordlessly took in Rhys’ ragged appearance, her eyes burning with rage, and made sure they got to the elevator without interruption. Part of him wanted to go to the conference room where the others were, wanted to have some control over the narrative, but in the end, they were the ones that had made him choose. 

He knew they cared, but in light of what happened, it suddenly felt hollow. 

Instead, he and Jack went straight to the shower as if it would wash away everything they had just experienced from their mind. It worked partially. Leaving him feeling exhausted as the tinge of angry resentment bled away, and something more defeated took its place. Something that was reflected in Jack’s expression as he looked at him. 

He slid his arm around Jack’s waist. Jack kissed him, and Rhys drank him in. He was careful. Slow and gentle. Then Jack sighed and drew his mouth back just enough to speak.

“Can you eat?”

“Maybe later.”

Jack nodded. “Bed then?” 

When they settled into the blankets, Jack pulled him firmly against his side. He was solid and unyielding, and Rhys knew precisely why it was a comfort. Then fingers touched his neck, then lightly carded through his hair against the grain. Creating disorder where there was order, comforting in how the action was so very  _ Jack.  _

His mom had told him to save his love for those who could love him back, and for the first time, Rhys slept, not doubting that he had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Jack inspo song for this chapter: [Break Free](https://open.spotify.com/track/2ynP7vnLgHtZJy5wwM0FCM?si=ImR6_6M7T5m3KIFYlfYT0A) (SYML). I listened to this about a million times.


	17. Aftereffects**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say it all the time, but it never feels like enough. So, thank you for reading. I am continuously beyond amazed & flattered that this is enjoyed on any level. When I started this, I honestly thought it'd fly under the radar. With that said, hopefully, this chapter clarifies everything that happened.

Rhys slept for three days, nearly dead to the world. It felt like every ignored ounce of exhaustion he had collected over the last seven years had risen up and swallowed him. 

Jack slept with him the first day, his arms wrapped possessively around Rhys as though to keep him from being stolen. After that, he would gently wake Rhys three times a day to eat like clockwork. He tried to stay up long enough to do at least one more productive thing before collapsing back into bed. Rhys would shower or take care of his messages, but he would make sure Jack was alright more often than not. That he had everything he could possibly need while waiting for Rhys to recover. Which Jack did. 

The same courtesies extended to Rhys on Eos were returned to Jack here. An office was set up in his apartment for him. Security clearances were adjusted, and access to Rhys’ shuttle had been arranged so Jack could move freely about Atlas Dominion. Not that he ever took advantage of that as far a Rhys could discern. If Jack needed something from his ship, or anything at all really, it was retrieved and delivered. 

Additionally, communication lines were opened between the corporations as news of Jack’s presence at Atlas was not suppressed. Nor was the fact that Rhys had been ‘injured’ in a ‘related incident.’ A security footage clip of them leaving Raesler’s wing was even intentionally leaked. Jack was holding him up with an arm around his middle, Rhys’ arm slung over his shoulders in return. Both in bloody clothing and flanked by two Atlas soldiers, familiar ones that traveled to Eos with Rhys often. It was an attempt on Lorelei’s and Raesler’s end to assure Jack they would get to the penthouse without further issue.

This was undoubtedly his inner circle’s way of apologizing to him. A way to show passive support while providing Rhys a foundation to move forward with Jack how ever he saw fit.

It was not an apology to Jack and therein laid the problem.

Every night, Rhys would come to because Jack would jerk awake, tension tearing through his body as he forcibly regained consciousness. Then Rhys would hear Jack exhale when he looked over and saw him. Rhys would kiss him and bury himself in Jack’s arms, curling against his chest to feel his heartbeat slow. 

They did not know how deep what happened had cut into Jack, and Rhys would never tell them because it was personal and private. But for it, he would never forgive Zer0.

Everything else, well, that would just take time. 

His replies were brief, strictly speaking. Not covering anything beyond what needed to be covered. Atlas was not in crisis. He was alive and breathing. No one was out of a job. Yes, they were all still friends. Rhys could recognize what each of them had been trying to accomplish at varying points in his relationship with Jack. How could he not? Thus, he wasn’t angry. Just disappointed. And that was why they would have to wait.

Once he and Jack had their long-overdue talk and addressed the aftereffects of Zer0’s cruelly manufactured threat, then they would all meet. It was the only way for Rhys to approach the situation without eroding the fragile stability he had with Jack.

Late in the evening on the fourth day, Rhys made himself get up to start putting things into motion. He sat on the edge of the bed and resocketed his arm. Then he stared out the wide window that was his wall and mulled over all the gaps and inconsistencies in a new light. 

Reviewing past events, specifically things Rhys had said, alongside the knowledge Jack didn’t care if what they shared was kept hidden, filled him with a cold, sinking sensation. He tried to remind himself that Jack was just as fallible. That he was no less damaged. No less ill-equipped to deal with this than Rhys was. 

He did not love Jack because he wanted to change him into something easier. 

He just wanted it to be real. 

Rhys found Jack sitting at his desk, multiple holo-screens hovering before him. There was the usual mess scattered about. Coffee rings, crumpled notes, and ECHO devices. Evidence that he had been working long and hard with little downtime outside of when Rhys was awake. 

Jack removed his glasses— the ones he would straight-up murder someone over for knowing they existed— and sighed as Rhys placed his hands on his shoulders and pressed in. Not exactly an intimate touch, but one with the intent of checking for something. 

“You should be in bed.”

“I’ll go back to bed when you’re ready to go with me.” Rhys pressed in a little deeper. Seeking to relieve some of the tension in the taut muscle.

“I’m not the one still recovering because of an old brain injury,” Jack replied in a bitter tone. 

_ No, but you are still recovering from something equally traumatic, yet again, because of me,  _ Rhys thought, a bit wretchedly, then said: “Some things are more important.”

That response seemed to catch Jack off guard. His shoulders went rigid, but after a beat, he relaxed back into Rhys’ touch. He set to work once it became clear that Jack was not going to stop him.

Rhys moved along Jack’s shoulders very slowly. Followed the lines of muscle and tried to force them into something more malleable. It took at least fifteen minutes for Jack to loosen up enough for Rhys to decide he could move on to his neck. He dragged his knuckles up the expanse of skin. 

“And you tell me I’m tense,” Rhys allowed dryly. 

Jack gave an amused, pained sounding exhale as Rhys dug his thumbs into either side of his spine. Right where the shoulder muscles flowed into his neck.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a shit few weeks.”

“You said we needed to talk,” Rhys murmured. “I’m ready whenever you are.” 

But Jack stayed still, and he remained quiet, so Rhys pressed in and moved his thumbs outward. Then pressed and shifted again. Rhys worked at the muscles, deep and slow, and he waited. Eventually, Jack snatched up Rhys’ flesh and blood hand and rolled his neck so that it cracked, quite horrifically. 

Fingers laced together, Jack took a deep breath, then said: “Alright. Let’s get this over with.” 

“Don’t sound like you want to do this or anything.” 

“I  _ don’t,”  _ he said, slipping his hand out of Rhys’ to dismiss the holo-screens. “I’m not— good at dealing with stuff like this, alright?”

“Neither am I.”

Jack stood and went to the living room. “No shit.”

Rhys followed after him but maintained a careful distance. “I am sorry for what it’s worth. I never meant for this to happen. Any of it. When you left… It was a clean break. It was exactly what I expected, and despite what Patrick said, I understood.”

“You really didn’t.”

“Well, I understood in the way you wanted me to at the time. I realize now what was really going on. It’s why you’re mad at me.” 

His expression tensed before looking out the window. He had hidden it, but Rhys could tell. It didn’t seem like Jack ever intended to forgive him either. 

“What I don’t understand is why you came back,” Rhys admitted. “I never would have bothered you. I knew what I was feeling wasn’t your fault. I had no one to blame but myself.” 

Jack gave a low laugh; it was almost a scoff. “It is real fucking different when you have no one to blame but yourself, isn’t it? Like— you want something meant for someone else, and when you’re holding it in your hands, it feels like something you don’t deserve.”

His hand twitched toward Jack, but he closed it into a fist and stayed put. Jack didn’t look like he wanted Rhys anywhere near him. 

“It does,” he said. 

“I hated that, and I hated you for it,” Jack snarled, stepping toward him. 

Despite being used to that by now, Rhys flinched back as the words themselves lashed into him, and seeing it, Jack froze. He clenched his jaw as he hesitated and looked away. 

“But once I had everything at Hyperion under control and had room to think about absolutely anything else, I realized I hated not having you more. And then, when I finally caved and called you, I could tell you were already moving on.” Jack cocked his head to the side. “Obviously, I couldn’t let that happen.” 

Rhys scuffed his foot lightly at a knot in the floorboard as he absorbed that. While he had always known he was just an afterthought to what Jack was feeling and wanted, it still hurt to hear. 

But then, he looked up again to find Jack staring at him. The undivided intensity of it and what it meant and how it made Rhys feel was undeniable. He nearly smiled, because that alone made it all worth it. 

“Did you ever care that people knew?”

“I did what I needed to make you mine again,” Jack said. His voice was calm and resolute. Deadly even. 

Rhys did smile then. “An unfailing strategist is what I should have called you.” 

His mouth curved into a faint smirk. “You were close earlier, but not quite there. I’m mad at you because that’s still not enough.”

“I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. Except you,” Jack continued, moving like water as he slowly closed the gap between them. “And that’s become a big fucking problem because instead of having you at my side where you belonged, I had to watch that asshole not only take my goddamn place but  _ touch you. _ It took everything in me to not pull some truly savage shit right then and there.” 

“I didn’t—“ 

“Shhh.” Jack’s hand came up and settled on the base of his neck. “I’m talking.”

There was a long moment of silence where Jack trailed his eyes over his features. There was something ravenous in it that reminded Rhys of predators, and he thought about how that used to unbalance him. Now, there was just a faint wariness and a sense of anticipation. Rhys could feel his pulse under the pad of Jack’s thumb. It was slightly elevated. 

“Then,” Jack finally continued, sliding his hand up Rhys’ throat. “While you were distracted, I tried to break free again, but all I could think about was something going wrong and having you taken away.” 

His gaze dropped, and there was a tearing sensation in his chest as Jack’s thumb grazed along the razor-thin scar on his neck. Rhys wished his wounds from everything they had put each other through lingered only beneath the surface where Jack couldn’t see them and be constantly reminded.

“I wanted to kill you, you know, just so that couldn’t happen.”

Rhys swallowed, feeling his adam’s apple work against the crook of Jack’s hand. “I know,” he said. “And that would’ve been preferable to what I thought was going to happen. I thought I was going to have to watch you die again.” 

Grip tightening, he pulled Rhys into him until he thought Jack was going to kiss him. But he kept enough space between them that his mouth was distressingly out of reach. 

“They are  _ not _ going to get rid of me that easily.” Rhys exhaled a little shakily as the words brushed against his lips. “You are  _ mine, _ and if they try to get in the way again, I will kill them.”

“They won’t,” he swore. “I won’t let them.”

Rhys responded on instinct, opening his mouth against Jack’s and relaxing into the feeling. Jack kissed him until he was breathless and pliant, then took him to bed. He stripped Rhys naked and laid him out before him to kiss every inch of him. It was deliriously slow and open-mouthed, and as always with plenty of  _ teeth.  _

It was intensely erotic. Intensely  _ Jack. _ Rhys’ fingers slid into his hair and gripped tightly, wanting to drag that perfect mouth back to his. But then two of Jack’s long fingers rubbed him briefly before sinking in to the knuckle, and Rhys was content to hold him there forever. 

After long minutes of teasing and testing, Rhys said: “I need you.” Because, in that moment, it was more accurate. He didn’t just need to have Jack bearing down on him or pressing into him. 

He needed Jack. 

“I know,” he said, teeth flashing as he spoke through them. “Sometimes, I feel like it’s all I can think about.” 

“Don’t—” His breathing hitched as Jack finally slid into him. “Don’t say you hate it.”

“Didn’t cross my mind.” And with that, where Jack had been content to savor, there was no more room for restraint. 

Not when they had held back for so long.

His thrusts were paced, but deep. Deeper than he had thought possible. There was an edge to it that made Rhys feel powerful in a way nothing else ever had. He couldn’t stop himself from losing himself in the feeling. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning. Not that he would. Not when Jack enjoyed it so much. 

“No one will ever harm you again,” Jack said, his voice rough in the way that made heat flow up Rhys’ spine unfailingly. “I won’t let them. You’re mine.” 

His thrusts became harsher and more drawn out the way they did before he reached his own end, and Jack snaked a hand between them. Touching Rhys with firm, insistent strokes that had him gasping against Jack’s mouth. 

“Only mine. And everyone in the universe is going to know it.” 

It took only seconds after that, and it was all Rhys could do to hold Jack tighter, to make sure every part of him was his as he came. Jack bit down hard on his neck, thrusting into Rhys a few more times before shuddering through his own end.

Jack kissed him for several long minutes before abusing one of his socks and dismounting his arm. Then he dragged Rhys against him, and he took full advantage. Jack smelled crisp and clean, like a freshly laundered shirt, like his expensive cologne, and Rhys’ shampoo. He could even smell, underneath it all, the faint scent of sweat and traces of ink on his skin. Listening to Jack’s heartbeat regulate, his eyes closed and knew this was the path they were always meant to take. 

No matter how much it had sucked to get there. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

“The command center has been essentially cut off from Atlas Dominion. You’ll be able to uplink to Hyperion securely. I also had a holo-structor installed so you can properly menace during all of your meetings.” 

“Awesome. It’ll be a lot easier that way.”

“It was only logical.”

Jack grabbed him and pulled him in for a kiss. It was neither brief nor chaste. Jack opened Rhys’ mouth with his tongue, fingers digging into the small of his back to keep their bodies pressed together. His initial flare of alarm quickly faded away, and he let Jack kiss him until he was satisfied. Just because he was putting on a show didn’t make it any less real. Probably more so, in fact. 

Jack grinned as he pulled back. Rhys was blushing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He smiled back.

“You know what, you’re right, this will be a lot more satisfying than killing them.”

Curiosity got the better of Rhys, and he glanced over. Patrick had his hand shoved up under his glasses, his finger and thumb digging into his eyes as if trying to unsee what he just saw. And Zero was staring their direction with a very distressed **D:** emoji.

He raised an eyebrow. “I do come up with good ideas every once in a while.” 

Jack hummed, running his hand down Rhys’ side as he hesitated. A flicker of vulnerability appeared for a moment. Then there was a shift in the way he carried himself, and he was Handsome Jack again, a leader entirely unaffected by the world around him.

“It’ll be fine,” Rhys said.

“It better be,” he muttered darkly, then squeezed Rhys’ hip before turning away. 

“That was some serious assholery goals, Jack,” Lorelei called after him. Jack waved a hand dismissively as he traveled down the hall. 

Rhys smirked, then joined his inner circle in the conference room. It was the first time they had all been in the same place in almost a week. 

“Nice shirt,” Lorelei said.

He was dressed in his usual daily attire; however, he had forgone a tie and left his shirt unbuttoned to display the t-shirt Jack had given him. It was Atlas red with  _ ‘Not Terrible’  _ in metallic silver in the corresponding font. A small yet wonderfully passive-aggressive detail that Rhys had agreed to for this meeting.

“Thanks,” he said. Then instead of taking his place at the head of the table, slid into the chair next to her. On the opposite side from them, a set of red ellipses popped up on Zer0’s faceplate, and behind him, Patrick started to slowly pace the length of the room. 

It was a division Rhys did not care to draw more attention to, but it also placed a certain emphasis on the subtle but significant difference of Lorelei’s approach. She never voiced her disapproval, only her concerns on exactly two separate occasions, then left Rhys to his own devices. Accepted they were his choices to make and did not devalue them by interfering in any way. She understood that it was not her life, and that fact alone left no room for ambiguity. 

It had never felt like something Rhys needed to say outright, and yet, there he was. 

“Maybe I can convince him to get one for you too.”

“You know what, I think I’d like that—” A death sphere of the sugary and potentially explosive variety fell out of her mouth. “Oops.”

Lorelei plucked it up off her lap and popped it back in. “You hungry? I very conveniently have an extra bowl and spoon,” she said. Then, she took a moment to showcase the items in question along with the forbidden box of cereal looming over them ominously.

“You know, I’m really tempted, but I think I’ll pass.”

Patrick muttered an: “Oh, thank god.” And turned back around to face the room. 

“Given everything I’ve survived, that seems like the sort of semi-innocent thing that would finally take me out.”

“Fair,” Lorelei said, pointing at Rhys with her spoon. “And that seems like the sort of thing Jack would definitely murder me over, and I like being on his ‘I don’t want to murder that person’ side. Makes me feel special.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Rhys asked, then they both shared a smile. 

Patrick made a sound of irritation. “Okay. We get it. A line was crossed on our end. If we could address the specifics of it, preferably without Lorelei eating that atrocity, and put this all behind us, that would be best for everyone involved. Including Jack,” he said, frowning as if hating the way his voice sounded vaguely apologetic as Jack’s name left him.

“He is an asshole / But not worth dismantling / Or dying over.”

Rhys took a slow breath and looked over at Lorelei. She abandoned her spoon with a shrug, then leaned back in the chair. A smile still played at the edges of her mouth, and not for the first time Rhys was very,  _ very  _ glad Lorelei was around. 

“I didn’t expect anyone in this room to trust Jack,” he said. “But, I did expect you all to trust me.”

Patrick stepped toward the table, his expression grew earnest. “That was never the—”

“That is precisely what this all boils down to,” Rhys interrupted calmly. “When Lorelei spends over forty-eight hours awake without a drop of caffeine to run stress simulations. Or, when you go to the Cistern of Slaughter to blow off steam, or when Zer0 vanishes for days on end, I don’t say anything. I trust you all know your limits better than I do.”

Rhys was quiet for a moment, absently sliding his metal thumb across the polished wood. “I know my proclivities don’t exactly inspire the same trust, but everyone here understands where they come from and have accepted them for what they are because of it. At most, my workload is curtailed to force some downtime. However, ever since things with Jack have started to become what they are, the two of you have…” He sighed sharply. “I didn’t need anyone to protect me from him. If it turned out I was making the same mistakes, the absolute worst that would have happened is you all would’ve had to help pick me up off the ground again.”

His mouth twisted as he looked at Patrick. “Jack wasn’t the only one who left without a word, and yet, I didn’t hear you say a single negative thing about Sasha when she did the exact same thing. At least, I knew where Jack was and why he left. Not to mention, he decided to come back for me. How you personally feel about either one of them doesn’t overrule any of that.”

Patrick blanched, his skin turning so starkly white he looked ill. “I am sorry.”

Rhys gave a weary shrug. “Doesn’t feel adequate, does it?”

“No,” he said, adjusting his tie. “Not at all when you lay it out like that.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter. Do you want to know what does?” 

No one answered, and Rhys let the tense, uncomfortable silence drag on longer than necessary. 

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” he said. “But neither of you trusted my judgment or that I knew what my limits were.” 

“Feelings are not facts / Memories lie, and people / Are not transparent.”

A smile ghosted across Rhys’ face as he looked at Zer0. “Well, first of all, I’ve been going to Eos for months without any issues, and when Jack really wants something, his impulse control only goes so far. And yet, here we all sit. Entirely unharmed in my perfectly intact empire with him just down the hall, probably taking all of his aggression out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.” Rhys gave a low laugh. “But who cares, right? Because they’re not my people.”

Patrick clapped his hand over his mouth and looked over, meeting his eyes.

Rhys smirked bitterly for a moment before continuing on. “Then again, when you went dark to draw out Katagawa, hundreds of my people were slaughtered simply because they thought he was you, and you know what? I’m still okay with that, and I’m okay with Jack having whoever he needs killed today killed because sacrifice for the greater good counts for something.”

Zer0’s faceplate flashed an **:\** emoji. 

“I defended you every step of the way through that despite the mounting evidence against you. You pushed me to my absolute limit, and I still thanked you when it was over. But what happened in Raesler’s lab…” Rhys looked down and gave a low sigh. “Feelings are not facts, but they still shape who we are, and if you thought I could have watched Jack die again and come out on the other side of that a second ti—” His voice failed him. Rhys looked away and cleared his throat. 

“I apologize. / But sometimes when we do not / Act, we rot inside.” 

“Finally, something about this we can agree upon,” Rhys said, then smiled faintly when Zer0’s faceplate flashed a **:D**. “I understand where it all came from, but I do not appreciate how any of it was handled.” 

Patrick shifted his weight. “It would have helped if you had been more forthcoming with your views on the state of things with Jack instead of just shutting us down at every turn.” 

Rhys raised his eyebrows doubtfully, but after a moment of thought said: “I’ve never known myself as well as I do when I’m with him.” Which went over about as well as he anticipated. Zer0 gave a dismayed **D:** emoji, and Patrick worked his jaw, grinding his molars as he tried to push back down whatever it was he wanted to say.

Lorelei laughed. “I just want to take a moment to reiterate that throughout all this, I did no wrong.”

“I bet that’s why Jack will give you a shirt,” Rhys said.

“You did plenty wrong just now,” Patrick snapped, pointing at the cereal emphatically. “You said you wouldn’t eat it anymore.”

Zer0 flashed his usual, very supportive **LOL** then, and the knot in Rhys’ chest, the one that had twisted itself tighter and tighter and tighter over the last several hours, loosened. He felt able to breathe again in a real, tangible way.

Rhys took a quiet sip of coffee, and let the familiar banter wash over him. He did not know the last time he had felt at peace with where he was in life, with what he had lost, and what his choices had made him into. But Rhys also kept seeing that moment Jack’s hurt and fear smothered his anger, where he had been ready to throw himself upon anything that looked like mercy. 

It made Rhys feel like he was in the wrong place. As though he should adjourn the meeting, go find Jack and finally figure out how they planned on moving forward. But he didn’t because that would not be fair to his friends. So, Rhys took a deep breath, finished his cup, and rejoined the conversation. 

It gave him something to focus on until it was time to get to work. 

Once his day was finished, Rhys found himself back in the conference room, torn between hunting Jack down and going to the penthouse and waiting. He never got to decide. Jack waltzed in and slid into the chair next to him, then rested his elbows against the table and turned to look at Rhys in one long, fluid movement. 

His hormones thanked him. 

The rest of Rhys felt jittery-nervous enough for him to hope Jack wouldn’t make this overly difficult.

“Hey, kitten. Did you miss me?”

“Not really.”

Jack chuckled in a way that sounded dangerous and wrapped a broad hand around Rhys’ thigh. The touch sent a warm, pleasant jolt through him.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better, but don’t stress out too much, I’m not going—  _ anywhere.”  _ There was that dark look in Jack’s eyes like he meant it with the promise of unpleasant things behind it if someone tried to stop him. 

Rhys smirked, and Jack’s half-smile became a whole one, the wolfish one that always sent his heart thumping. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a combined Patreon reward recently of Patrick & Raesler. For anyone interested in seeing it, you can find it [here](https://memaidraws.tumblr.com/post/620369722183139328/the-wonderful-pat-and-penelope-for-ladymdc-this) on tumblr.


	18. He Mattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Song I Abused while writing this chapter: [From Now On](https://open.spotify.com/track/6oZHh2hLbeS730ey1NPhpd?si=ghPaLO9YQDiSmxvRB3EE5w) (Mandolin Orange)— thanks for this one key. ♥️

It was a moment like so many others, familiar and automatic, and reassuring because of it. Jack was the exact opposite of Rhys, and yet, precisely like him. Their entire relationship revolved around this contradiction; on balancing out opposing compulsions in equal parts— action and restraint, rejection and acceptance. And what they had utterly destroyed was slowly being rebuilt into something even better than before. 

“Right,” Rhys said wryly. “Like it’s as simple as that when we both have an empire to run.”

“It really is that simple.” Jack’s hand shifted up a little on his thigh, comfort with an edge of suggestion. “Hyperion has the best Legal team in the universe. They should have the paperwork wrapped up in about a week, then all we’ll have to do is sign and— merger complete.” 

Rhys stared wide-eyed at Jack, trying to absorb the reality of what he just heard. His stomach was fluttering, and he felt breathless. Jack meant it all literally. 

He was not going anywhere.

He wanted Rhys at his side, where he belonged. 

He wanted everyone in the universe to know that Rhys was his. 

Rhys didn’t know what to say. There was so much he wanted to say that he didn’t know where to start. Then something resembling disappointment flickered across Jack’s face, and he withdrew. Rhys tried to hold him back. 

“Jack. Wait—” 

He jerked his arm from Rhys’ grasp. “I don’t want your stupid fucking company,” he bit, sending the chair rolling back as he launched to his feet. Rhys followed after him, his metal hand closing around his wrist like a vice. Jack looked at him sharply. 

“I know,” Rhys said quickly. “I know that. We’ve already had that conversation.” 

Jack searched his eyes as if he expected to find some other truth there. Rhys met his gaze evenly and let him assure himself. 

While he waited, he thought back to the morning after the transfer. Jack had been carefully exacting as if determined to prove what he was to Rhys and why. But it hadn’t been just Rhys. He also saw Jack for exactly what he was. Understood what it was to be fueled by power and ambition and guilt and regret and to concede to  _ no one  _ because of it. 

Except, one another.

“Then what’s wrong?” he finally asked.

“You just took me by surprise,” Rhys said. “That’s all.” 

Jack remained unusually quiet. Merely, raising his free hand and brushing his fingertips against Rhys’ throat. It was a touch that most would find at odds with a man composed of cutting remarks, cold glares, and coiled lethal energy, but darkness was only a condition of light. 

After a moment, Jack looked up. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Rhys admitted, his hold on Jack relaxing a little. “Something similar to what we were doing, I guess. Just— splitting the travel between sectors so we could see each other more often.”

Jack’s mouth tensed. “And that would be enough for you?”

“I never said that, but this stopped being about me a long time ago.”

His eyes flashed with something that looked like triumph. “You’ll sign it then?” 

“Of course, I’ll sign it,” Rhys said, mouth curling into a faint smile. “I love you.”

Jack started to nod, and his hand rose. Rhys released his arm as fingers tangled into his hair to drag him forward. Then Jack’s tongue and teeth and lips pressed against his. He used his hold on Rhys to control the pace as he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. It was as though Jack was trying to pour himself into Rhys or consume him. 

His thumb slid along Rhys’ cheekbone, and he wrapped his arms around Jack and met every movement of his mouth. He did not ever need to hear Jack say it back. He told Rhys in the way he let go of everything else and held onto him instead. 

“Come back to Eos with me,” Jack said, his voice less composed than before. “I know you. You’re going to want to pick it apart and work out the logistics, and it’ll be a lot goddamn easier to do without your fucking people around trying to convince you to leave me.”

His voice had shifted. Traces of his hard, venomous tone started to emerge, and Rhys could feel Jack shaking. Just a slight tremor running through his frame as everything finally started to overwhelm him.

“Jack—”

Jack tugged his head back by the hair, then his hand was on his throat, followed by his mouth. “They don’t even know who you are,” he hissed.

Placing his hands on Jack’s chest, Rhys shifted in the iron grip but didn’t pull away. Jack’s eyes were guarded as he met Rhys’ gaze.

“They do, just not as well,” he disagreed, gently. “And I told you I wouldn’t let them get in the way.”

His expression wavered. Rhys saw Jack doubt him. 

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to trust me.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust.”

“Okay. That’s fair,” Rhys said, feeling relieved. “But yeah, I want to pick it apart and work out the logistics because there is absolutely nothing wrong with you and I having a solid plan in place. I mean, sure, a merger is technically as simple as signing a piece of paper. But actually putting it into effect so this,” he waved his hand between them, “works the way we want it to is, by definition, the opposite of simple.”

Jack gave a short nod and relaxed marginally. 

“When do you want to go to Eos?”

“Tonight,” Jack said tightly. “Preferably.” 

He suspected Jack needed some actual distance to put some subconscious distance between himself and recent events. Which was why Rhys wasn’t going to fight him on it. In the past, Rhys had no good reason not to prioritize Atlas. Having actual distance between himself and Jack had neutralized his discontent with their relationship. It had helped Rhys convince himself that he mattered  _ enough. _

Now, Rhys could hardly believe he had found the concept of Jack wanting this just as much inconceivable. It all seemed so obvious; it felt like it had been inevitable. Rhys would do whatever he could to give Jack some peace among the turmoil that was his own feelings intersecting with what had happened on top of the realization that it hadn’t been anywhere near enough.

“Alright,” Rhys said. “We’ll have to split our time between sectors anyway until things stabilize. Let me tell Patrick—”

“You want to do that  _ now?” _ Jack asked, visibly annoyed.

Rhys snorted. “Absolutely not. That ‘having a solid plan’ thing is pretty critical for me to break that news.” He began to fix the mess he had made of Jack’s collar. “I meant about us leaving, and I’m hungry. So, maybe we should have dinner sent over to whatever ship we’re taking unless you feel like cooking.” 

“I’m not leaving my ship here without one of us planetside.”

“Whatever you want,” he replied. “Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll meet you upstairs. It won’t take me long to toss a bag together so we can go.” Then before he could argue, Rhys kissed him. Jack was too keyed up for words to reach him entirely, and when that happened, the only way to get through to him was tactilely. Rhys could feel him unwinding under the brush of his lips, and when Jack pulled back, it was with a resigned sigh. 

“Fine,” he clipped. “Fifteen minutes. And we’re going to have goddamn nachos.” 

The corner of Rhys’ mouth twitched. He had seen something like this coming. There was no way Jack would agree to Rhys having another conversation about them, alone, without also antagonizing him in turn. Still, compromise was compromise, even if Rhys’ intention was to merely avoid any potential conflict until things were solidified.

“Sounds good.” 

“Maybe some wings too.” 

“Whatever you want, Jack,” he said, smiling. 

His lips quirked slightly. “As much as I love what you’re doing right now, you’re wasting time, cupcake.” 

“Am I?”

Jack barked a surprised laugh, and Rhys grinned broadly at the sound. 

“Fifteen minutes,” he promised, and when Jack waved him off, Rhys turned on his heel and brought up the ECHO display in his palm. 

Rhys wanted to speak to Patrick since he would be most affected by the sudden decision, but there was no guarantee he would be in his office this late. Not ever since he and Raesler started seeing one another. 

The ECHO continued to ping without an answer, and leaving a message would be in poor taste. He was about to close his fist and try Lorelei when there was a click, and Patrick’s head and shoulders appeared. 

“Hey, Rhys. Is everything all right?”

“Uh— yeah, it is. I just needed to stop by and talk to you if you’re in your office and have a few minutes.” 

“I’m here and available.”

“I’ll be right there,” Rhys said, then flexed his fingers to disconnect the call. 

Once Patrick had accepted the COO position, they had remodeled the south end of the floor to give him a bigger office. Privacy was not much of an issue since clearance up here was already incredibly restricted, so the same heavily tinted glass walled in his space. He could discern that Patrick was standing in front of his desk, awaiting Rhys’ arrival.

Upon his entry, they stared at each other for several moments. The apprehension in Patrick’s eyes only grew as he waited for Rhys to say something. Then taking a page out of his book, Rhys said, without preamble: “I’ll be leaving for Eos tonight, so Jack and I have some space to figure things out.” Because really there was no good way to tell him. 

Patrick looked unsurprised. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a week? What I can’t handle remotely, I’ll reschedule. Just like I have been.” 

“All right.”

The following silence was so heavy Rhys felt like he was being crushed under it. The possibility that he had irrevocably damaged this essential tether loomed large in his mind. Rhys feared it would no longer be able to survive something as complex and unyielding as Jack. The unforgiving honesty Patrick offered was what made him not only a great asset, but a great friend, and Rhys really did not want to lose that.

“I don’t want my relationship with Jack to be a continuous point of contention between us, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

“There is nothing to further address. It will not be an issue. I promise,” Patrick said. “I have put tremendous thought into this, even before this morning, but since then, it has become grossly apparent how I have failed you.”

“What? No.” Rhys was legitimately stunned. “You really didn’t. People make mistakes. We both did.”

“Be that as it may, I believe I have. Look at what you trust me with.” Patrick gestured around them. “Even now, and you do it because you are first and foremost, my friend. You would have fired me by now otherwise—  _ don’t lie.” _

Rhys closed his mouth and scrubbed a hand down his face. Like Jack, it was better to just let him get it all out before trying to speak. 

Patrick drew a quick breath before continuing on. “I didn’t want to take this promotion because I did not want to take advantage of that, but you were right. Whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not, in my own way, I have been helping you build this company into what it is now for years. So, I decided why not. Nothing would change. Not where it really mattered. And nothing would have if I had just trusted you.” 

He gave a dismissive shrug. “All I can do now is hope you at least understand why I was unable to.”

Rhys glanced down at his shoes and nodded. Patrick had lost his father and brother during Atlas’ collapse then his mother to the war. He had lost his entire family to circumstances out of his control. What it all amounted to was he had been in a position to stop himself from potentially losing someone else. Sasha had never posed a threat to Rhys in any way, shape, or form, and Jack did.

“Of course, I do. I wished I had handled that better,” Rhys told him. “I was just upset.” 

“Rightfully so.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay. You didn’t actually do anything wrong. When I really needed you to, you trusted me. You didn’t interfere with the transfer. Outside of that first trip, you didn’t try to stop me from going to Eos, and in the lab—” His throat caught. 

Rhys forced in a deep, even breath. He wasn’t going to lose Jack again. He wasn’t. And it might feel like he was standing on razor-thin ice with Patrick, but Rhys knew from experience that thin ice was still something to stand on.

“In the lab— you stood down. Then you gave me space to work through it.” Rhys cleared his voice. “This isn’t irreparable. This isn’t even broken unless you think it is, alright?”

Patrick smiled faintly. “All right.”

“Okay. Well,” he began, then exhaled heavily. “I’ll call you, and we can talk about this more if you want to, but I have to go. I told Jack I’d meet him in fifteen.”

“Just one more thing, if I could,” Patrick said, shooting him an apologetic look. “I want you to know that I understand things are going to change. I can accept that. I want you to be happy. But that does not mean I am going to like it.”

“You didn’t like Lorelei in the beginning either,” Rhys pointed out.

His expression drew taut. “Lorelei is different.”

“She really isn’t.”

“She is.” Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “In at least six drastically better ways.”

Rhys took a few steps backward. “I won’t tell her you said that.” 

“Thank you,” he said, then they shared a smile. “Be safe, Rhys.”

“I’ll call you.” 

“You said that already.” 

Rhys shrugged a shoulder. “With how you keep phrasing things, it feels like you’re trying to say goodbye in a very permanent way, and it’s freaking me out.” 

“I do not plan on going anywhere unless you decide I need to.” 

“See? Like  _ that,” _ Rhys said emphatically. 

Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, then ticked one up. “It is not my intention,” he replied. “It’s all still fresh. For both of us. Give it time.” 

“Right,” Rhys said, smirking. “Time.”

Something they did not have much of. 

Not that it mattered. This was like Helios, like tearing out his cybernetics. This was the war and allowing his mother to not wear a shield or reviving Jack. This was knowing  _ exactly _ what he wanted and  _ exactly _ what he was risking. 

Then doing it anyway.

Upstairs, Jack leaned against the wall and watched him pack in silence. Rhys dragged out about two weeks’ worth of clothing from his closet and picked out several suits. It was a lot more than he would need, but having more of an established presence on Eos made good sense if they were really doing this. He could replace what he was taking easily enough. There would probably be a lot of back and forth initially, and the less either one had to drag around, the better. 

“I assume you’re leaving most of your stuff here?” Rhys asked as he finished up.

“Yep.”

Rhys zipped up the garment bag. “I just got the notification your ship is ready. I need to run down to my office for my uplink, and then we can go.”

Jack grabbed his mechanical arm and pulled him back into the room. “When are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said. “I’m just not sure Patrick will stick around in the end, but I guess I won’t be doing this by myself either way.” 

“What an asshole,” Jack ground out, then dragged Rhys into him. He wrapped his arms around Jack and sighed quietly. “Let’s go chow down and pass out. It’s been a long fucking day.”

Rhys nodded, then dropped his head forward to press his face into Jack’s neck. “Thank you,” he murmured.  _ For not saying it. For not saying that I don’t need them. _

_______________________________________________________________________________

Telling Vaughn went about as well as expected. It went something like this:

“Bro!”

“Bro…”

“Brrrrrooooo.”

“Bro.”

Vaughn sighed. “Bro.”

“Bro!”

“Rhys!” came Jack’s voice from the other room. “I swear to god. You’re cute but not that fucking cute. Stop.” 

Vaughn slowly raised his eyebrows. “Brrrrooooooo,” he whispered. 

Rhys tried to suppress a laugh, and it came out as this weird half giggle snort thing. “Bro,” he whispered back. 

“Awesome.” Vaughn winked then leaned back in his chair. Behind him, Pandora’s rocky terrain was cast in a lavender glow as the night cycle closed in. “So, what do you want to start with? Where you are or what happened last week?”

Naturally, Vaughn had called as soon as the news reached him, but Rhys had been busy drooling on his pillow, or Jack. He managed a brief reply the following day. Like, exceptionally brief:  _ I’m fine. Explain later.  _

“Last week. Start at the beginning,” Rhys decided, speaking quickly; clipped and detached. “It was an assassin. Someone close to me decided to take advantage of the reprogramming. I was held at gunpoint; Patrick and Jack were forced to stand down, but Raesler managed to put an end to the situation. Then Jack and I decided to use some of the footage to give ourselves some transparency.”

Just as Rhys expected, Vaughn remained silent; the corners of his mouth taut, his forehead furrowed. He was a great friend. He would not pry at something inherently traumatic, and that was appreciated for a myriad of reasons. It always made things easier for Rhys. Even more so at present where events as they actually unfolded would only sew more discord, and that was the absolute last thing he wanted.

The silence went on long enough that Rhys thought he would have to, er… twist things a little further, but then Vaughn’s mouth lifted in a half-smile.

“There’s only so much transparency with Handsome Jack,” he said. 

The security footage leak did not change much at the end of the day. Jack was utilitarian in his methods. People did not  _ talk  _ about Handsome Jack, and now, by proxy, they did not talk about Rhys. All that had occurred was public acknowledgment they had managed to move past their convoluted history. Amicably given the overall lack of bloodshed and mass destruction and opened communication lines between the corporations. There had also been a corresponding flux in their stocks, so they at least made money out of the fiasco, then it was out of the news cycle. Just as they wanted.

Rhys twitched a smile. “It was more than enough.”

“I guess what happened must have been pretty bad then,” Vaughn said, pointedly avoiding Rhys’ eyes. 

For a moment, Rhys thought about telling him exactly how bad it had been. Then he thought about saying how difficult things still were. Rhys walked away from the ordeal with the one thing he had never allowed himself to dream of, and it felt tarnished. 

But, Rhys would not betray Jack like that. They were both struggling. It was theirs, and they would move past it together. 

“It wasn’t good,” he allowed truthfully. “But I think we were well on our way this direction. What happened just expedited things.”

“Well, I’m glad something positive came out of it, at least.” 

“We still have a lot to work out.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you’re…” His eyebrows lifted expectantly. 

“On Jack’s ship,” Rhys said. “Headed to Eos.”

Vaughn smirked. “What’s it called? Jack always had a way with naming things.”

“Oh, man,” came Jack’s voice again. “I’ve been dying to say this. Hang on, Grizzly Adams!” There were a few quick keystrokes, then a creak of leather. “I’ve got this. Rhys will just fuck up the delivery anyway.”

Vaughn blinked, then grinned so broadly Rhys worried his face would split in half. He was very much regretting not using his handheld and holing up in their quarters. It just felt more natural to have extended conversations on a holo-screen. Plus, he’d been making calls in there all day without any interference. Not even when Rhys had checked in with Patrick.

As Jack came up next to him, he weaved his fingers through Rhys’ hair. He looked up at Jack. 

“Is this really necessary?” Rhys asked as patiently as he could.

“It really is necessary,” he said, offering that lopsided smile that held no motive whatsoever, and Rhys’ lips quirked automatically. The fingers in his hair tightened before moving to his shoulder. Jack leaned over Rhys to brace himself on the table.

“It’s called Dangerous Interstellar Conveyance K-Drive. Rhys is riding to Eos on my DICK—  _ ha!”  _

He should be thankful Jack was, well, not nice, because he wasn’t nice to anyone, but he was largely indifferent toward Vaughn. However, it was currently impossible to be anything but slightly annoyed. Endearingly so, and that just compounded the feeling. Rhys put his face in his hands and made a sound of exasperated amusement as Vaughn let out a string of short giggles. 

“That’s just— so great. I’m sure he’s having a great time.”

“He is. He just loves being underneath me,” Jack said, voice going low. It reminded Rhys, in a horrible way, of literally being underneath Jack, and his cheeks warmed. 

Jack shifted closer to practically speak into Rhys’ ear. “Which is why when our merger goes down, it’ll be Hyperion-Atlas. Just so my Rhysie feels  _ good.” _

This was not the most ideal way to tell Vaughn. It wasn’t really the most ideal way to do anything except show Vaughn how hopelessly fucked Rhys was when it came to Jack. His skin felt like it was burning as his body warred between embarrassment and arousal. It felt both awful and amazing.

Rhys spread his hands in a vague  _ ‘it is what it is’ _ sort of gesture. “As I said, we still have a lot to work out.”

Vaughn looked like he was trying with all his might to not have a brain aneurysm. “Yeah, you did say that, didn’t you? Makes a lot more sense now.” 

“One of these days, I’ll learn how to just come out and say whatever I need to say,” Rhys offered in apology.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

_ “Ha!  _ That’s probably a good idea.” Jack squeezed his shoulder. “Have fun with this, cupcake, I’ve got work to do.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“You’re welcome,” Jack said, and his voice sounded warm. Then he strode off. “I think I want brinner. Some biscuits and gravy sound boss. Maybe with an egg on it. Poached. A little hot sauce.” His ramblings faded away as he kept right on walking and left his office, apparently deciding that he didn’t have work to do after all.

Vaughn pointed off-screen to where Jack had exited stage left. “Were you supposed to contribute something to that?”

“Nah. He doesn’t tend to pick stuff that I dislike, so I just go with it.”

The smile Vaughn gave then was stiff. “Would you even have a choice in the matter if he did?” 

Rhys blinked. “I would. I did. I swear it. How things were…” He wished he could defend something he didn’t have words for. “A merger wasn’t what I was expecting from him, but it’s what I want. It’s what we want.”

Vaughn looked relieved. His smile lost its tension, and Rhys’ posture eased alongside it. 

“Alright,” he said. “How’d the crew take it?”

“We haven’t told them yet. I’m not too concerned about Zer0 or Lorelei, but Patrick… I don’t know. Things haven’t been right since, you know.”

“It’ll be fine,” Vaughn said, not dismissively, only sounding like he knew it to be entirely true. “It’s hard to watch people you care about go through something horrible, but if he was there and unable to do anything… He’s probably not doing very well himself right now.”

“I—” Rhys started and broke off; he looked away. Patrick had been carefully contained, just as he always was, but Rhys should have seen the disconnect between them for what it was. It was similar to the one that he and Vaughn had dealt with. “I said some things that I’m realizing now might have made it worse than I originally thought.” 

“Did you apologize?”

Rhys ran a metal finger along a particularly bold line of wood grain in the table. “Not in those exact words, no.”

“Then you over apologized, because that’s what you do,” he said, and Rhys snorted. “What’d he say?”

“That it was all still fresh, for both of us, and that I needed to give it time.” 

“Then give it time,” Vaughn said slowly. 

His mouth quirked up. “Thank you for waiting around for me.” 

“It’s what bros do,” he said, eyes crinkling. “So, go be with Jack and work it all out. Give him the time he needs right now.”

So that was what Rhys did, and on Eos, he got a glimpse of how things could be.

They were so used to their time together being on a countdown that it had taken several days to relax into it. They worked. They shared the same space. Learned how to communicate better as they hammered out the details of everything. They slept. Sometimes they went to bed early and slept late, and on their last night there, they didn’t bother getting out of bed at all.

It was well past sun up, and they still laid there. Legs tangled together, Rhys had his head pressed into the curve of Jack’s shoulder. He had a hand under Rhys’ t-shirt. His fingers traced patterns or shapes into his skin until it felt almost familiar. Almost like he was writing something over and over. It was lazy and perfect and peaceful. Neither of them was in any rush to take things further because, for once, it could wait.

Rhys was wrapped up in the dangerous embrace of Handsome Jack, and he felt safe. It felt like home.

When they finally dragged themselves out of bed to head back to Promethea, it was with no small degree of reservation. On the trip back, Jack seemed to feed off of Rhys’ mounting unease. His behavior was reminiscent of the transfer when Rhys had thought Jack expected him to renege at any moment. Except, now, Rhys could practically feel the restraint vibrating off of him, and he knew Jack was trying to be quiet for his sake.

In the conference room, guilt unfurled through Rhys as he stood before his team. He knew what the merger would mean for them. How it would disrupt their lives, Patrick’s more so than any of them. He was a man who did not like to be surprised, and Jack made him blanch with fury almost on sight. However, as Rhys met his gaze, Patrick offered him a small smile. It wasn’t happy. It wasn’t the one that Rhys had always known, but it was one that was trying. Rhys suspected that he had no idea what his friend might be capable of until that moment. 

He took a breath. “Jack and I have decided to merge the corporations. It will be full and completely lateral. We will convert our respective stocks to those of the new, combined corporation, Hyperion-Atlas.”

There was a profound silence. 

Then Lorelei made a choking sound before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god,” she gasped at the same time Patrick snapped: “Jesus- _fucking_ -Christ.” 

He produced a $100 from his pocket and pointed at Zer0 with it. “This is  _ your  _ fault!” Zer0 flashed a very distressed **D:** emoji as Patrick handed over the bill to Lorelei. 

“Wait! Waitwaitwait,” Lorelei managed, shucking her jacket to pull on the t-shirt Jack had wordlessly tossed her direction upon their arrival. It looked like Rhys’ but read:  _ The Smart One.  _ “Okay. Now I’m ready.” 

He calmly handed over the bill, but Patrick looked like he was just barely resisting the urge to strangle her. Then he turned to Rhys and started to further respond, but before he could speak—

“Before you start, asshole.” Jack stepped up next to Rhys. “Feel free to quit. I’d—”

“Fuck you, Jack. If I was going to quit— _ because of you— _ I would have done it day one. It is appalling how highly you think of yourself, but know this, I am going to enjoy running half of your company.” Patrick raised an eyebrow. “I would gladly list every single reason there exists for that; however, I respect Rhys far too much to lower myself down to your level.”

Jack’s rage surged to the surface, and Rhys grabbed his wrist. “If we could not do this every time we’re all in the same room, I’d appreciate it.”

Patrick glanced away, and Rhys could somehow feel Jack clenching his jaw. 

“Thank you,” he said, then frowned when he noticed Lorelei was eating popcorn. Reflecting his confusion, Zer0 flashed a few question marks, and she offered him some. 

“Uh,” Rhys continued, eloquently. Now, Zer0 was randomly holding some popcorn with a red smiley on his faceplate. “We won’t need to do this often, we’ll still manage our own sectors for the most part.” 

Patrick cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Then where, exactly, will the headquarters for the new corporate name reside?”

“We haven’t really gotten that far, but I believe I owe Jack a space station.”

Jack’s anger abruptly subsided, and he turned to stare at Rhys. 

Rhys smirked. “It sucks, doesn’t it? Being caught off guard like that.”

“Shit. Now I’m going to have to—” Jack dragged him into a kiss. 

Rhys’ laugh was muffled by Jack’s lips. The kiss wasn’t one of their most passionate, but it did not need to be. His tongue caressed the inside of Rhys’ mouth, his fingers curling into his scalp, and then Jack was smiling. It made the moment richer than Rhys ever really thought could be possible. 

It was not just that they were in it together. In the end, it was the decision to allow the possibility that Jack would treat him right, and wouldn’t harm him again. Rhys was no stranger to finding himself broken and existing in pieces while presenting himself as best as he could, but it was the decision to fear that and love Jack at the same time. To know the terror of it, and trust him anyway.

And then eventually, let it go, and just be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’m almost done, this Unnecessary Ramble is going to be a little chonky. So, sorry about that...
> 
> (1) I didn’t expect Patrick to end up with such a central role. The 4-person team from the games just sort of stuck in my head & from there he took on a life of his own. I love that people have expressed how much they enjoy him. He has become one of my favorite OCs simply because he is ~~inherently unlikable~~ rigid & unforgiving & I’ve never written that. Odds are, I’ll never write him again, so I self-indulged in [a character sheet of him from frecklef0x](https://frecklef0x.tumblr.com/post/623635281900404736/ladymdcs-patrick-may-carry-a-gun-as-he-traverses).
> 
> (2) A BIG special thanks to key for a bunch of stuff. But here specifically, for naming Jack's ship. I wish I could take the credit for that because LMAO it's perfect, but alas, it was this lovely muffin— and ghost. Both of these individuals have been great. They've encouraged me to explore other ideas & it ended up being a wonderful way to destress myself over this work, which brings me to my final point.
> 
> (3) I’m so happy-sad to be finishing this up. Long fics are a lot of work & I’ve been lucky enough to have some very supportive individuals to keep me going. I’m glad to finally finish telling this story, but it has also been a significant part of my life since Dec & a much needed coping mechanism for the disaster of a year that 2020 is.
> 
> But one (1) more chapter, and it’s a wrap 💔
> 
> **Updated 08/14/20:** [a lovely Lorelei](https://twitter.com/HolographicAI_/status/1294301182962221056?s=20) wearing her awesome shirt thanks to HollographicAI. ❤️❤️❤️


	19. Epilogue: Home*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is the epilogue everyone was hoping for ♥️

A faint rustling roused Rhys, but only slightly. He shifted toward the sound, exhaling, and tried to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. Then long, familiar fingers carded through his hair, and that alone cleared his head. He pried his eyes open to find Jack studying him.

“I didn’t know you were on your way back already,” Rhys said, then cleared his voice. “Is everything alright?” 

“I don’t know, is it?”

His mouth curled up as he looked past Jack. The stars were bright and glittering, and just past the stones of Skywell was their new home, Selene. A soft, silvery light emanated from the geostationary space station. 

“Yeah, bringing the servers online went just fine. Everything is fully operational and secure. I tried to call you, but it was pretty late Eos’ time. I just thought you were asleep already.” The bed shifted as Jack climbed in. “I see now why you really didn’t answer.”

Jack hummed as he threw the sheets back. “All of that is great news, kitten, but it also puts a certain emphasis on what I was really asking you.”

The air in the room was cold, but before it could even touch Rhys, Jack settled on top of him with all his weight. His body pressed snugly against Rhys’. He was warm, but he always was. Rhys was convinced Jack just ran hotter than most. Lying next to him in bed meant he never felt cold, or alone.

Rhys snuck his hand under Jack’s layers to get at his back, feeling the skin there. He just wanted to touch him. Two weeks was not technically an extended period of time, but it was their longest separation since the merger. Usually, it was only a handful of days, at most. 

“I just didn’t want to spend my first night up there without you,” Rhys admitted. “That’s all.” 

His hand slid down Rhys’ throat, and he felt Jack’s thumb ghost across his collarbone. The roughness of his palm felt good. It always did. 

“I should have left earlier,” Jack murmured. “I could tell it was getting to you.” 

“I should have waited. I wanted to. But if something went wrong, then I would’ve had the chance to fix it before you got back,” Rhys said, feeling terribly self-conscious. In a way, Selene was Rhys’ apology. A weak attempt at making things right long after the fact, and he wanted it to be perfect.

Throughout its construction, Rhys’ thoughts ventured back to that awful night, reflecting on his starring role in the events that set everything in the wrong direction. Should haves and could haves slamming into him out of left field. All of it too clear and too brutal. His ego and selfishness. The damage it had caused, how much ignoring the price of getting what he wanted had  _ cost. _ Jack had seen his true character, even warned him, and still, Rhys had dismissed it despite the evidence surrounding him. 

Jack suffered from different regrets, though the root cause was the same. It had been his constant companion that kept him awake despite his exhaustion. A fervent desire to turn back time, reverse fate, and be better. Rhys saw this as clear as day on the rare occasion Jack allowed his eyes to land on Angel’s photo. 

“Rhys.” Jack gently pressed on his jaw with his fingertips so he would look at him. 

It was the same look Jack was giving him now.

“It’s not just yours. Stop fucking carrying it like it is.” 

They had forgiven one another for everything, even if they could never forgive themselves. Rhys had spent years trying to leave the past behind him. Moving determinedly forward, not necessarily in the right direction, but onward nonetheless. It took a war to make him realize the past was inextricably linked to the present. That there was no escaping it. So, there really hadn’t been a choice but to face it.

Even now, their history was not entirely behind them. It probably never would be. Not with the multitude of ways they had hurt one another, both intentionally and incidentally. However, without it all inexhaustibly front and center, they had managed to set it aside. They had allowed themselves to move past it— together. 

Rhys felt his mouth quirk up, sad but trying. “How was Eos?” 

“Sunny.”

Unsurprisingly, that alone smoothed away his disquiet, and Rhys’ smile shifted into something more genuine. “I’m not sure what I expected there,” he said.

Jack huffed a laugh. “That does seem to be how it goes with you. Determined and stubborn as hell, but quick on the uptake? Not so much.”

“Only when it comes to you.” 

His fingers traced the line of Rhys’ jaw, and Jack looked at him as though he were all that mattered in the universe. His gaze was as possessive and ravenous as Rhys felt; his pulse quickened. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Rhys told him.

“Me neither,” Jack murmured, then shifted closer to kiss him. 

His lips were gentle, and Rhys drank in the reassurance of it. He sighed into the kiss and opened his mouth, enjoying how Jack’s breathing shifted at the first brush of their tongues. Jack bit his lower lip before kissing him again. 

The only sounds were the rustle of their clothing and the sheets, and the soft noise from their kisses. It did nothing to abate his arousal after so many quiet nights spent alone. But then Jack rocked into him, pressing his own erection, hard and thick, into Rhys’, and he broke the spell by moaning aloud.

“There’s my Rhysie,” Jack said, abruptly sitting back on his heels. He half-assed pushed Rhys’ t-shirt up, thumb grazing his navel. “Stay right here for me, alright? Just like this.” 

“Alright,” he breathed, and Jack pressed his lips to the inside of Rhys’ knee before getting out of bed. He began to undress. 

His thick happy trail was revealed, followed by the hair on his chest, and Rhys’ blood began to heat. A smoldering fire, the kind that grew secretly. Only he got to see Jack like this. Only Rhys got to see Jack without his cold exterior. And there was something about him under moonlight, even artificial, that made him cruelly beautiful. Almost otherworldly. A fallen angel. Or perhaps the angel of death. 

He wished he could remember when he had stopped being afraid of him. 

Jack dropped a bottle of lube onto the bed then smoothed his hands down Rhys’ thighs, staring at him intently for a moment. “I should have made you come with me,” he said in a low voice as though it were a confession. “Then you would’ve had to wait. Maybe I wanted to push the button that brought it fully online. I mean, you did build it for me, after all.”

Rhys smirked as fingers hooked into his boxers. He lifted his hips to help Jack along. A ghost of a smile touched Jack’s mouth as he took notice of Rhys’ socks in the process. They were black and had cartoon death spheres slash Jack-Balls all over them in varying emotional states. It was a very recent addition to Rhys’ collection; Jack left them on. 

“Don’t overstate it or anything,” Rhys said. “Didn’t figure you for hyperbole.”

Jack settled between Rhys’ legs and raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying there wasn’t a button to push?”

“There were about five thousand to push, Jack. It took  _ three days,  _ but I’m sure we can find one for you to push if you really need it.” 

“It’s okay,” Jack said, the lube bottle snapping closed. “There’s one right here.” Then Rhys felt gentle pressure circling his entrance, and he made a very embarrassing noise. It was a half snort, moan thing. 

“It’s my favorite, anyway.” 

His face was burning, and he wasn’t sure why. Embarrassment? Arousal? Perhaps the weird backhanded praise? All of the above? He never knew with Jack. 

“Please shut up.”

“Never.” Jack bit down on Rhys’ thigh as he pressed in. “You love it when I tell you how good you are for me.” 

Rhys let out a sound of relief and despair because Jack was right. He didn’t want Jack to shut up. He wanted to grab the words in his hand and feast on them as Jack murmured a constant litany of praise while he fingered Rhys open—  _ “You’re fucking gorgeous. Perfect. You can do anything. I’m so proud of you.” _

Jack spent the whole time stroking his leg and hip, pressing kisses into his skin. Stabilizing Rhys while he destabilized him. But then Jack’s attention shifted, his hand smoothed up Rhys’ torso. It briefly settled over where his heart was pounding dangerously fast. Jack curled his fingers into his prostate, and Rhys moaned as blunt nails lightly scratched down his chest. Then Jack was pulling away entirely.

“No— Jack. Can you just not be difficult tonight?”

“Easy, kitten. I just want you on top,” he said, grabbing Rhys’ forearm to help him to his feet. “I want to see you, alright?”

Rhys nodded, smiled a little, then let Jack pull off his t-shirt.

Once settled against the headboard, Jack guided Rhys into his lap. He gripped Jack’s shoulder to keep himself balanced without the weight of his other arm, and felt the faint sensation of a raised scar beneath his palm. Rhys moved it down over his shoulder blade to where the scarring was most concentrated. Corrosive backsplash that had eaten through Jack’s shield during the first attempt on his life. 

As his hand grazed along it, Jack pressed his cheek into his arm for a moment before guiding himself into Rhys’ body. Jack sighed with satisfaction, steadying Rhys with both hands on his hips as he took him to the root. After a minute, Jack curled his fingers under the curve of Rhys’ ass and began to move him up and down, controlling the pace.

Rhys’ hand came up and captured Jack’s jaw, just below his ear. His fingers pressing into the base of his neck, arching his head back as Rhys kissed him. He could spend an eternity kissing him, feeling the burning reverence in the way Jack touched him. The slow, steady rhythm, rising and falling so that Jack sank in deep, over and over, gradually brought Rhys to the edge. 

“You really are stunning like this,” Jack murmured. “So vulnerable and  _ mine.”  _ He punctuated this by grinding Rhys into him. He gasped against Jack’s mouth, flushing hotly.

Jack pulled back to look at him fully. “You’re so close,” he continued, voice low.

“So are you.”

“Touch yourself for me.”

Rhys obeyed, matching their unhurried pace, but then Jack said: “Fuck, I missed this. I missed watching you take me. I missed—” and he shattered. His coordination failed him, and his thighs shook as pleasure shot through him, but Jack kept Rhys moving, dragging him up and down his length. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Just like that.” Then Jack’s voice broke off on a low groan as he came too. 

It took a minute for Rhys to come back into the room, and he did it with Jack’s mouth on his throat and hands buried in his hair. 

“I missed you too,” Rhys said, and Jack sighed heavily. “Let’s get cleaned up. I imagine you’re tired.”

One mistreated Hyperion-Atlas t-shirt later, and Rhys was pressed into Jack’s warm chest with his sharp chin resting in his hair. Jack fell asleep quickly, his breathing turning slow and even. Rhys felt complete, tired; he would follow after Jack in seconds once he let himself.

It was Rhys’ last night in this apartment. He did not think of everything he’d miss and everything he wouldn’t or anything in between. Rhys did not grieve its loss because home was no longer tied to a place, but to the person whose arms were wrapped tightly around him. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

When Rhys woke, the rising sun was sending lavender and pink and golden light streaming across the sky, seeming to illuminate the underbellies of Skywell. The coloring slowly solidified, shifting into something more vibrant. It was a rarity, and it would not last long, but it felt fitting for the moment all the same. He was still curled against Jack, who was sitting up and had clearly been awake for a while. He was freshly showered with his glasses perched on his nose, typing one-handed on a holo-tablet, and absently carding the other through Rhys’ hair. 

The hand went still along with the rest of Jack, and Rhys realized that was what had woken him.

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

Rhys smirked a little. “Morning. Couldn’t sleep?”

“I slept just fine. Don’t fret that pretty little head of yours.” Jack’s fingers began to lightly massage his scalp. “I just needed to finish up some stuff you distracted me from.”

Rhys hummed neutrally. Jack was like him. When he worried, he did so obsessively. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” Rhys asked. 

“I was thinking avo-BLTs.”

“Have them toss an egg on mine, and I’m sold.” 

“Hm. I’m sold too,” Jack said, swiping through the screens to notify the kitchen. 

Part of Rhys wanted to stay curled up in the warm bed, but that would have to wait. There was an arsenal of shit they needed to finalize before they enjoyed the weekend. Motivated by that thought and nothing else, Rhys dragged himself from the bed and into the shower. A long, hot one that washed away the remaining traces of stress he had been carrying around. When Rhys was finally finished, he dressed in fresh clothes, styled his hair, and made his way to the kitchen. 

He glanced around the large, open area. It was sterile. Bare. All that remained was the sofa, a desk, a random side table, and a chair. Their personal possessions had been moved into their new place over the last week, and everything else discarded. What Patrick and Raesler did with the penthouse, well, Rhys did not rightly care. 

“You have great taste in coffee, kiddo; I’ll give you that.” 

Rhys turned in confusion to find Jack leaning against the breakfast bar and grinning like an asshole. It had been his voice, but slightly off— thin and sort of flat. Not to mention he had not called Rhys kiddo in well over a year.

“What the fuck was that?”

“It’s my gift for the newlyweds,” Jack said, grin turning sly. He pushed off the countertop and grabbed the mug from what appeared to be a plain, state of the art espresso machine. 

“I dug up the data on that offensive as fuck gun and did something useful with it.” Jack poured some steamed milk into the drink and slid the mug toward him.  _ It’s piss!,  _ it cheerily proclaimed in hot pink. 

“What, no art today?” Rhys asked, looking down at the foam. 

“Kitten, I know how much you enjoy looking at my face, but the real thing is right in front of you.” 

“Fair enough.” He took a sip. It was a cafe mocha today with a dash of cinnamon. 

“Come get some caffeine, you freakin’ moron!”

“He’s going to hate that,” Rhys said, vaguely gesturing toward it. 

Jack winked. “That’s the idea.” There was a pause, then he pointed at Rhys, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t you ruin this for me.” 

“I won’t,” Rhys promised, and it was a promise he easily kept. 

The strain of animosity and calculation between Patrick and Jack had long since died down. They certainly were not friends. Hell, the word tolerate was even a massive stretch. Still, as long as Rhys did not insert himself into the middle of it, they coexisted civilly enough. Mostly they just trolled one another. To unfathomable extremes, sure, but they weren’t trying to actively set one another off anymore, and that in itself was a victory. This sort of wedding ‘gift’ would be largely anticipated, and if Patrick managed to convince Raesler to get rid of it, Lorelei would surely accept it with open arms. 

However, odds were Patrick would forever be the proud owner of a Jack-voiced espresso machine, because it turned out Raesler actually liked Jack. So, including Lorelei and Blackwater, that made at least four people in the universe who could willingly stand him for an extended amount of time.

The most Rhys ended up doing was reminding Patrick that he could do whatever he wanted with the penthouse and Hyperion-Atlas would cover the cost. He clearly felt out of sorts anyway due to the shift in power, and Rhys did not want to knock him off his bearings more so than necessary. Luckily, they were quite busy now that Selene was online, so it was easy enough to disregard the details for the time being. 

Patrick would be running things planetside while he and Jack reigned from above. Jack would still technically head things on Eos, but it was in good hands in his physical absence. Bentley, aka Buttercup, was not still alive out of the goodness of Jack’s ever-generous heart. He had proven himself more than useful, and the same could be said, more distinctly, of Zer0. 

It was apparent there were no limits to the lengths in which Zer0 would go to protect Rhys, and Jack would never admit it, but he valued that. It was a trait Jack possessed as well, so they simply avoided one another for Rhys’ sake. That much was obvious. Despite the passage of time, he was reasonably certain there would be blood otherwise. Zer0 was unapologetic and Jack… well, normally Rhys would say he had an absurdly long memory for holding grudges, but in this, Jack was more than justified. In fact, the incident in Raesler’s lab was something Rhys still held onto himself. Feelings were not facts, but that did not make them a dismissable form of collateral damage. 

Sure, Jack was largely deficient in morality, but he also held an intense personal ethical code that burned so brightly it often hurt to disagree with him. In a profoundly incomprehensible way, everything was just better with Jack. Rhys lived larger, thought sharper, and loved like he never had before. He had seen Jack at his best and at his worst, had seen him on top of the world, and breaking underneath it. And later that night, when Rhys strode into their new apartment, he could say, he had seen Jack wearing nothing but a yellow apron that read  _ ‘Blow me’  _ across the chest. 

“Subtle,” Rhys said. “I like it.”

Jack grinned as he extracted a waffle from the iron, but then the smile faded when he looked at Rhys. He studied his face carefully then flicked his eyes down over the rest of him.

“After dinner,” he said, frowning. “You’re looking too goddamn thin again.” 

Rhys tipped his chin in deference. “It can be dessert.”

Jack chuckled and wrapped an arm around Rhys; pulled him close to kiss him. His lips moved against his, and Jack’s hand slid up the column of his throat. 

After a minute, he drew back. “I love you, kitten.” 

He could not quite say it as easily as Rhys did. Jack only seemed to be able to say it as a statement of fact. As far as Rhys was concerned, the phrase did not need tone or depth to enhance its meaning.

Alone, it was enough.

It said everything it needed to say.

“Love you too, Handsome.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant note: Selene, the moon, is the third and final child of the Titan Hyperion. 
> 
> **update 01/27/21** : Aiden made a [lovely painting](https://twitter.com/stingafterdark/status/1354543377728086019?s=21) inspired by this work featuring Jack doing his Best™️ to annoy Patrick. Go love on him, he’s great 😭💛✨
> 
> The rest of this is 'overly emotional author just finished a project' rambling:
> 
> First, there is a List of People I want to specifically mention:  
> ◆ Most importantly, [Lara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues). I would not have even started this if not for her encouragement.  
> ◆ And the following individuals: toby, key, ghost, hartlynk, silverosiris, lysodesigns, zomboid, hyperi0nhero, cade & whoever the anon(s) were on tumblr— know that you all helped me finish this in your own way.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve mentioned this before, but I never expected anyone to become invested in this story. So, given you’re reading this: thank you! 
> 
> Thank you to those who left kudos, who booked/subscribed, who recommended this to others, the lurkers, & an additional thank you to the commenters— never doubt the positive influence you have on writers. I hope you all enjoyed this work as much as I enjoyed writing it. TCWM is part of a couple of series now ([opens trench coat to reveal ALL Rhack related contraband](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790767) then [ the pocket specifically for works in this universe](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857106)) & hopefully I'll still see some of you around.  
> ♥️ MC
> 
>  **update 11.18.20:** If you've made it this far, I'm sure you've already seen the second piece I commissioned from Jugum. However, if you haven't, fair warning that it is slightly nsfw. But, the *epilogue scene* can be found [here](https://twitter.com/jugumpuppet/status/1328808794906738689?s=21) on her Twitter, alongside the unmarked cover. 💛

**Author's Note:**

> ~~[TCWM playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0QXCp96jKFrruBeCN121XO?si=beuOHsuUSRalQZTZHdEdUQ) ~~


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